Readers Choice: Becoming the Dark Prince
by Kurinoone
Summary: Oneshots dedicated the childhood of Harry, showing how he grew up to become the Dark Prince. Based on the DP Trilogy.
1. That First Day

**Disclaimer** I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to J K Rowling.

This isn't a request. It was supposed to be in the trilogy but I couldn't fit it in. In all essence it's a deleted scene. It's a continuation of the scene that shows a four year old Harry meeting Voldemort for what he thinks is the first time. Hope you like it!

**That First Day**

"W-what, what did you do?" Harry asked as he pulled his fingers away from the wound and saw the blood staining his fingertips.

"I did what I had to, to make you stronger. I have marked you as the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin, making you my heir. You are now my son." said Voldemort with a twisted smile.

Harry stared up at the wizard, his fingers still pressed against his bleeding forehead. He didn't understand, that much was clear by his confused expression. He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly in pain, but he stifled the noise of discomfort.

Voldemort took a step closer and reached out, guiding the small hand away. He took in the sight of the fresh scar, marring the child's forehead, the scar in the shape of a lightening bolt. He smiled to himself.

A light touch and a whispered incantation had the wound close up instantly, leaving behind a pinkish scar. Voldemort stepped back, observing the child as he reached over to touch at his forehead and pull back his hand to see no more blood. Green eyes stared up at him with wonder.

"Thank you, sir." Harry whispered.

Voldemort didn't say anything and for a moment just stared at the boy. Abruptly he walked past him, heading to the door. Startled and a little panicked, Harry stared after him, too afraid to run behind him but clearly terrified being left alone in a strange place. Voldemort pulled open the door before he glanced behind him.

"Come along." he ordered, stepping outside.

Harry raced across the chamber, catching up with the red eyed wizard.

xxx

Voldemort led Harry through Riddle Manor, past countless doors and down long winding corridors. Harry struggled to keep up with Voldemort's long strides. He had his injured hand clutched closely to his chest, protecting it from banging into anything. He took in what he could of his surroundings but it was much too dark for him to see properly.

Harry followed behind the tall wizard, climbing awkwardly through a portrait hole into a small, narrow corridor. He shivered as the unexpected cold air washed over him. Harry stared all around him, taking in the sight of small cubicles lined along one side. They had metal bars for doors and were extremely dirty. Struggling against the poor light, Harry scrunched up his eyes, trying to see what was inside these small rooms. He saw long chains hanging from stone walls. He suddenly grew fearful, wondering with terror if this was where he was going to be put. All the cells were empty, for now.

He slowed down, waiting to see if the wizard would stop before any of the prison cells. But Voldemort walked past them and headed to the end of the corridor.

With a sigh of relief, Harry raced up behind him, careful not to make much noise. Voldemort continued up the corridor, not speaking a word. Harry followed behind him until they arrived at a small door. Harry glanced curiously at the door knob, shaped as a funny looking creature with big eyes, a long nose and strange pointy ears.

Voldemort opened the door and walked inside, coming to rest finally. Harry walked past the threshold, looking around the small, bare looking room. Voldemort walked over to the a door on the other end of the room, past a small fireplace and a wooden table with several chairs. He beckoned Harry to follow him. The four year old walked over to him.

"I want you to take a good, long bath." Voldemort instructed. "You're filthy. After today, I am never to see you in such a poor state again, is that understood?"

Harry cowered, his eyes darting to the man's hand, expecting it to raise and fall on him, to accompany the command. To his relief, nothing happened. Harry quickly nodded and then hastily added a small, "yes sir" as well.

Voldemort nodded at him, gesturing for him to get inside. Harry walked into a small bathroom, his eyes finding the tub quickly. Voldemort snapped a finger, making Harry jump. He turned around quickly, thinking the gesture was for him but was surprised when two small, pointy eared, big eyed, creatures appeared out of thin air. The house elves bowed low, their heads touching the floor at Voldemort's feet.

"Yes, my Lord?" they spoke in quiet voices, still bowing.

"Bathe this child and have him dress in the robes I leave outside." Voldemort ordered. "Be gentle with him, he is injured." he nodded at Harry's hand.

Harry watched with amazement as the two house elves babbled their thanks to the wizard. Voldemort was ignoring them. He met Harry's eyes once more before leaving, closing the door abruptly.

A sudden panic swept through Harry. He almost dashed for the door, wanting to run after the man, the wizard who had used magic and helped him, healed him. But he had been told to have a bath and he didn't want to make the man angry by disobeying him. He didn't want to be naughty. Then he would have to be punished, just like his dad punished him. Harry shuddered, the memory of his dad's beatings made his stomach clench painfully. Harry shook his head. He was going to be good and do as he was told. No matter how afraid he was.

He turned around slowly to see the two house elves filling up the tub with hot water, pouring in something from a small bottle. A thick frothy bubbly layer was forming in the tub. Soon the bathroom filled with the smell of coconuts and chocolate. The two creatures, the same height as Harry himself called him over.

"Young Master, sir!" they addressed in squeaky voices. "Your bath is ready, sir!"

Harry walked over hesitantly, silently wondering what these creatures were and why they were so funny looking. He did as he was told and quickly discarded his filthy clothes and shoes, stepping into the bubble filled water.

Harry had never had someone else bathe him. As far as he could remember, he had never had a bath with hot water. His mum used to fill a bucket of cold water and tell him to stand in the bathtub. She would dump the cold bucket of water over his head and that was it. No soap, no shampoo, no frothy bubbles that floated over the surface of the water, making Harry reach out and try to grab them. Harry let the elves bathe him, rubbing soft sponges against his skin. It tickled him and no matter how hard he was trying to be quiet, a few soft giggles escaped him.

Soon the bath was over and Harry was gently led out of the tub and enveloped in a soft, fluffy towel that was wonderfully warm. Harry followed behind the two house elves, cradling the towel against himself. The house elves led Harry out of the bathroom and into the main room. Resting on top of the wooden table were clothes and a pair of shoes, meant for Harry.

The four year old stared in wonder at the new clothes. The elves dressed him in the bottle green robes, which were transfigured from Voldemort's own robes, they told Harry with excitement.

"Master has never allowed anyone to touch his clothes." they told Harry. "Sir is blessed to have such an honour!"

Harry felt a strange burst of happiness in the pit of his stomach. The warmth spread from his stomach all through his body. They said he was _blessed_. That had to be a good thing.

After he was dressed and his wet locks were forced into a somewhat presentable fashion, Harry was led through the corridor and back up to Voldemort's chamber. The house elves left him at the door, hurrying away.

Harry knocked on the door with a small fist, fidgeting nervously where he stood. The doors opened of their own accord and hesitantly, Harry stepped inside.

xxx

Lord Voldemort was standing next to the large arch window, staring out at the night sky, when he heard the faint knock at the door. He wandlessly opened the doors but it was a minute or two before the child made his way inside meekly. He turned to face the boy and nodded at him, gesturing for him to come closer.

Harry walked over to him, standing as close as he dared. Voldemort's red eyes looked him all over.

"Better," he said. "You have a lot to learn." he remarked. "You're wearing the clothes of a master, you have to hold yourself such."

Harry looked up at him but didn't change anything about his stance. He stayed as he was, hunched shoulders, head ducked and hands nervously fidgeting with his robes at each side. Voldemort smirked but didn't say anything. He turned to look back out the window.

"Do you know who I am, Harry?" he asked quietly.

"No sir." Harry replied.

"They call me Lord Voldemort, those who dare to speak my name that is." he smirked. "Most are too fearful of me to speak my name." he turned to look at Harry, catching the look of confusion on his face. "Do you know why they fear me?"

Again Harry answered.

"No sir."

"They fear me, because they do not understand why it is I do the things I do." he explained. "But I'm only doing what my ancestors did before me. I carry on the noble intentions of my greatest ancestor, Salazar Slytherin. He believed the world should be a certain way. I believe the same." he turned to look at Harry, "and when you grow up, Harry, you will believe the same. Now that you are the last descendant of Slytherin."

Harry didn't look like was understanding much of anything. His small face had an expression of confusion.

"I have used magic to link us together, to form a bond of blood between you and me." Voldemort explained. "You are now in every sense of the word, my son and the last descendant of the Slytherin bloodline." Voldemort tilted Harry's face up, brushing back the boy's bangs. "This scar on your forehead is the mark to your Slytherin heritage."

The four year old clearly had no idea who or what Slytherin was but he nodded anyway.

"Okay." he muttered innocently.

"Don't worry, Harry. You'll learn all about Slytherin soon enough." Voldemort stood tall before the boy. "I will teach you all there is to magic." he said. "Under my care, you will grow to be a powerful and skilled wizard." he looked intently at Harry. "Would you like that?"

Harry nodded.

"Yes sir." he answered quietly. "But, my dad, he said I can't do magic. He said I was a...a squib."

"Your dad is an idiot." Voldemort remarked, "he doesn't understand what power is. I felt your magic, Harry, even before you walked into my chamber. You were still in my hallway with Nagini when I felt your magic, it's that strong. You have the potential, you just have to learn to use it."

Harry dropped his gaze to the floor, not wanting to contradict the man, but he knew he didn't have enough magic, his dad always told him so.

Voldemort slipped a finger under the child's chin and tilted his face up, so he could see his face.

"You have a different type of magic, Harry. It's what some call dark magic. That is why your parents disliked you. They hurt you because they can't understand the raw magical ability you possess." Voldemort shook his head. "Such fools, they don't understand that there is no such _thing_ as dark magic. What you have is a darkness, a darkness inside of you that can lead you to greatness."

Harry stared in awe at the man.

"How...how can you tell, sir?" he asked.

Voldemort smiled at him.

"Because, Harry. I have the very same darkness inside of me. I have the same raw magical ability and it is because of this, that people dislike me too."

Harry was surprised. He tilted his head to the side, a frown on his face.

"People don't like you?" he asked in his childish innocence.

Voldemort shook his head, looking out of the window again.

"No Harry, they don't like me." he said, "When I was a boy, the same age as you, I was with people who didn't understand magic. They didn't know what it was about me but they knew I was different and they hated me for it." Ruby red eyes scanned the starless sky with intensity. "I grew up, knowing that I was different, that I didn't fit in with the rest. But I didn't give up. I let my darkness, my inner magic guide me and I set out on my own path. I fell more times than I stayed standing, but I didn't give up. I had people step in my way, try to stop me, but I pushed past them. Today, I stand as Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard this world will ever know." he turned to look at Harry. "You remind me of myself." he told him. "You were unfortunate like me to grow up among people that don't understand you, that hate you for what you are. But unlike me, you will have someone there, guiding you to greatness. I will be with you every step of the way, until you are able to stand by yourself. Then the world will bow before me and my son."

Harry could do nothing but stare at the man in surprised confusion.

Voldemort turned away from the window, moving towards his high backed chair again. Harry walked behind him, wanting to stay close. He felt comforted being close to the man that had healed him and helped him.

"I will train you, teach you how to do magic and if you work hard and do as I say, you will become powerful enough to do almost anything."

Harry nodded, eyes wide with admiration.

"I'll do what you say, sir, promise."

Voldemort stopped and turned to look at him.

"When we are training or during lessons, you will address me as 'sir'." Voldemort said. "But otherwise you are to address me as 'father', understand?"

Harry nodded again.

"Yes...f-father." he tried, the word rolling off his tongue with difficulty.

"It will seem strange at first." Voldemort said, "but with time, it will become natural."

Voldemort pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door. A hiss of a spell and a bright light left his wand. It flew to the door and disappeared through it. Harry was watching with awe, he had never seen his mum or dad do magic like that.

Not even a moment later, a knock sounded on the door. Harry jumped with fright at the loud sound. As quick as he could he hurried to Voldemort, almost hiding behind him. Voldemort watched with amusement as the child hid behind his robes, little hands holding onto his dark robes. He looked away lazily, waving a hand towards the doors and they opened, permitting entry.

Harry peeked from behind Voldemort's robes, watching as two people, a man and a women, entered the chamber and hurried towards them. Both fell to their knees bowing deeply, just like those two creatures that had bathed him, had fallen to the ground at his feet.

"My Lord." both the man and women murmured.

Harry looked at the man, he had long blond hair and a pale pointed face. The women was different. She had black hair, like his own, but it wasn't messy. It was pretty, falling past her shoulders.

"Rise." Voldemort spoke in a cold voice and both man and women stood up. Their eyes darted to the small boy half hidden behind robes, in curiosity but they didn't dare question anything. Voldemort looked down at Harry before meeting their gaze. "This is Harry, my son."

Surprise flitted over both faces and they looked back over at the child. Suddenly both fell to their knees again, head bowed before Harry.

Harry in response shied away, hiding behind Voldemort completely.

"Rise," Voldemort commanded again. "Have a room prepared for him. Make sure it is appropriate for my heir."

Bella and Lucius both bowed their heads.

"Yes master." they both replied in unison.

They left quickly, Bella turning back to look at Harry once more. When the door closed, Harry timidly moved from behind Voldemort.

"It won't take long for a room to be prepared." Voldemort said. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

Harry shook his head, the reaction more instinctual than anything else. He would be punished severely at home if he complained that he was hungry.

"I'm not accustomed to repeating myself." Voldemort warned, his voice suddenly dangerous. Harry was quick to take a step back in fright. "so I won't ask you again. I suggest you tell the truth."

"I...I'm a little...hungry, sir." Harry admitted with difficulty.

Looking pleased with that answer, Voldemort snapped his fingers. Another house elf appeared, again bowing deeply before them.

"A simple meal and a glass of warm milk." Voldemort instructed. He gestured and the house elf quickly hurried away. "Come on." Voldemort beckoned to Harry and led him out of the chamber again.

xxx

Harry was led to another room, this one had a table stretched across the length of it, at least one hundred high backed chairs lined along the mahogany table. Harry saw a plate with a sandwich and a silver goblet sitting next to it on top of the table. Voldemort led Harry to the nearest chair and told him to sit. Harry struggled to get onto the chair, using his one good hand to pull himself onto the chair with difficulty. He managed and settled comfortably. He waited until Voldemort prompted him again.

"Eat your food, Harry."

Timidly, Harry picked up his cheese sandwich and took a tiny bite. Voldemort watched, taking a seat at the head of the table.

"Drink all of your milk." He instructed, nodding at the goblet. "You have a lot of growing to do."

Obediently, Harry picked up the goblet, his burned hand posing a problem for him to grasp the heavy goblet properly. He managed and took a sip, the sweetened warm milk was like nothing he had ever tasted. Harry took another sip, then another until the goblet was drained.

Voldemort watched in silence. Once Harry finished his food and drink, Voldemort extended a hand towards him. Harry was confused momentarily, before realising he wanted to see his hand. Gingerly, Harry showed him his burned hand. From the folds of his robes, Voldemort pulled out a jar filled with a yellow cream. Harry sat as still as he could as Voldemort took out some of the cream and applied it to his injured hand. It stung and Harry had to bite back his cries as Voldemort's application of the salve was harsh and painful. Finally the man pulled away, wiping his own fingers clean with a handkerchief.

"It will heal by tomorrow morning." he told Harry.

Harry nodded, tears leaked from the corners of his eyes but he brushed them away with the back of his good hand.

"Are you in pain?" Voldemort asked.

"No, sir." Harry replied.

"What did I tell you to call me!" Voldemort suddenly snapped.

Harry jumped and looked up at him in fright.

"F-father, I'm sorry, father." Harry replied.

Voldemort nodded tightly at him.

"I do not repeat myself." he warned, "But I've had to tell you this twice now. Remember what I tell you and act on my instructions, understand?"

Harry nodded again.

"Yes, f-father." he stuttered.

Voldemort sat back and for the next moment or two just watched the boy as he sat, trying his best not to fidget.

A knock brought both man and boy's attention to the door. Bella bowed deep.

"My Lord, the room is ready."

Voldemort nodded and dismissed her with a flick of his fingers. Again, Bella stood up and gave Harry a curious look before disappearing from view.

"Come on." Voldemort instructed and Harry hurried from the seat, not wanting to anger the man again.

xxx

Again Harry was taken through Riddle Manor, the corridors and hallways draped in darkness. Harry stayed close at Voldemort's heel, not wanting to get lost in this maze like place. Finally, after what seemed like forever to four year old Harry, they stopped next to a set of heavy looking mahogany doors. Voldemort pushed the doors open and led Harry inside.

Harry stopped just past the threshold, rooted to the spot in sheer shock. He stared at the chamber, the biggest room he had ever seen, his eyes wide and darting from one thing to another. He saw the bed, far too big for him to sleep in, an eight door wardrobe was lined against one wall, an expensive looking wooden desk and chair was in one corner and an impressive book shelf stood towering in the other. Harry walked a further step inside, looking around the room, noting the roaring fireplace that had filled even a room this size with comfortable warmth. An open door across from him showed a bathroom, white marble covered every inch of it. He turned back to look at Voldemort who was watching him.

Voldemort glanced around the room, his red eyes taking in details.

"I will get some books for you," he nodded at the empty bookcase. "Of course, first I will have to teach you how to read." he mused to himself. He turned to look at Harry. "You have a lot to learn." he told him simply. "But as for today, you need to rest." he led Harry to the bed, big enough for four adults to sleep comfortably in. He sat Harry down on the bed, taking a seat himself.

"Now, you promised to do as I say," Voldemort reminded him. Harry nodded, his bright green eyes fixed on Voldemort. "This is very important, Harry. I told you that people don't like me, they want to hurt me just like your parents were hurting you, because they don't understand us, what we really are and what we can do." Harry nodded again. "Because of that, you are going to have to make sure no one sees you here, living with me." Harry looked confused, he tilted his head to the side, a questioning look on his face. "I have a lot of followers, people that work for me." Voldemort explained. "But these people won't keep you a secret, even if I tell them to. They might tell others and if the world finds out you're here, so will your parents."

As soon as he said the words, Harry tensed, fear radiating from him. Voldemort watched him carefully.

"Do you want to go back to your mum and dad?"

Harry quickly shook his head.

"Then under no circumstances have you to ever tell anyone who you are. It could lead to you being taken away from me. Even if your parents don't find out, there are people in this world, Harry, that will hurt you solely for the reason that you are my son." Voldemort explained.

Harry nodded his head again.

"I won't tell anyone." he swore.

Voldemort smirked in satisfaction.

"Good," he praised. "You'll do well, Harry, all you have to do is listen to me and always do as I say."

Harry nodded.

"I will, father." he smiled shyly at his own attempt at remembering what title to call him.

"The only ones that know of you are Lucius and Bellatrix, the two people I called to my chambers so they could prepare this room for you." Voldemort reminded Harry. "They are my most trusted of followers. They will help train you. You are allowed to speak to them but no one else." Voldemort instructed. "Stay in this room, it is yours, you can do as you please." Voldemort reached out, brushing back Harry's bangs that had obscured his forehead. He stared at the scar again and smirked.

"Go to sleep now, Harry. I will see you in the morning."

Harry pulled off his shoes, using only one hand. He looked at the bed, afraid to stain the sheets with the yellow cream still heavily coating his hand. He turned questioning eyes to Voldemort.

"It doesn't matter. Your rest is more important than the bedsheets." he told him.

A small hesitant smile came to Harry's face. He slipped under the covers, still in his robes and settled comfortably. He pulled off his glasses and placed them onto the bedside table.

Voldemort looked at the glasses, held together by tape.

"Another weakness of yours that needs to be fixed." he said. "One last night Harry, tomorrow you will have your sight restored so you no longer need glasses."

Harry blinked in surprise at him.

"You can do that?" he asked.

Voldemort smirked as he stood up. He looked at the little boy, who seemed even smaller lying in such an enormous bed.

"You will come to see Harry, there is very little I _can't_ do." he smiled again at the look of awe on the child's face. "Sleep now, I will come to get you in the morning."

He walked to the door, turning to look behind him when he reached the door. He saw the child had his eyes closed, already falling fast asleep.

He smirked to himself. The boy was already following his orders. Smiling with satisfaction, the Dark Lord walked out, closing the door softly behind him, as not to disturb his sleeping son.

xxx


	2. Bella

**Disclaimer** I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to J K Rowling.

Jooy's request - _Harry talks with Bella for the first time_

Dedicated to Jooy. Hope you like it!

**Conversations with Bella**

It was raining heavily. The fat raindrops hit against the windows with ferocity, tapping against the glass. Harry watched from his chair, wrapped in a blanket, warm by the flames happily crackling in the fireplace behind him. As far as he could remember, he had never sat before a fire before. His attic was always bitterly cold and on wet miserable days like this, he had longed to sit and get warm before the fireplace. But his parents never allowed him.

Thinking about the parents he had run away from, Harry sank lower into the warm embrace of the blanket, almost as if he was hiding from them. It had been three days since he had left home. Three days since he had ran away from his mum and dad. Were they looking for him? Did they even notice he was gone? Would they care?

Harry knew, deep down, that his parents would be glad he was gone. After all, they hated him. His mum used to tell him to '_get lost_' all the time. Once she had grabbed him by the hair, dragged him to the back door and pushed him out, screaming, '_do us a favour and leave! Never come back!_'

Harry shuddered, remembering that night. He had been terrified and cried throughout the night, curled up on the doorstep, horribly cold and utterly petrified of the dark. When his mum opened the door in the morning, he was so glad to get back inside, even his freezing attic was a welcome relief.

Harry closed his eyes, reaching up to rub at them with small fists. He was still getting used to the fact that he no longer had clumsy glasses, blocking access to his eyes. His new father had fixed his eyesight, just like he had promised.

Lord Voldemort, that's what he said his name was. Harry thought about him and how strange it was that he was equally terrified of him that he was fascinated. His new father came every morning to see him, shared all three mealtimes sitting with him at the table and came to bid him goodnight. He hardly spoke to him, but Harry found he didn't mind. He would rather sit in silence than be yelled and shouted at.

A knock sounded on the door, making Harry look around at it with surprise. In the last three days, the only one to come to his room was his new father. But he never knocked.

Harry scrambled out of his chair, darting to the humongous bed and slipped under it, hiding completely from view. The knock sounded again, the thuds making his little heart race faster. He watched from under the bed, as the door opened and a pair of legs hesitantly crossed the threshold. All Harry could make out was the high heeled black boots and the end trim of the black robes.

He waited, keeping himself completely silent and still. He had good practise. He had hid from his dad plenty of times, sometimes escaping his punishments for hours. It was futile though, his dad always got him in the end.

The boots walked further into the room, the clicking of the heels made Harry's heart beat that bit faster. His gaze followed the boots, moving only his head, as the person walked further into the room. They walked right up to the bed and stopped. Harry held his breath.

The feet moved away, clicking in the direction of the en suite bathroom. Harry sighed in relief, dropping his head to the floor and closing his eyes. Very suddenly, something grabbed his ankle and he was pulled out from under the bed, making him cry out in surprise and alarm. He found himself staring into the amused looking face of a witch, with heavy lidded eyes and dark black hair framing her face.

"Boo!" she said, so quietly, she could have whispered it.

Harry blinked at her, utterly panicked at being found. His ankle was still trapped under her fingers, but he struggled anyway to move away from her. The woman giggled and let go, allowing Harry to scramble backwards, until his back hit the edge of the bed. Harry blinked at her, breathing heavily. In the haze of his panic, he suddenly remembered, with a stab of relief, that the women before him was one of the two people his father had given him permission to speak to. '_Lucius and Bellatrix_' The names rang in his mind although he hadn't seen either of them, since that first day.

The woman, Bellatrix, tilted her head to the side, her dark eyes scrutinising the four year old.

"Was young master playing?" she asked. "Do I win?"

Harry was breathing very fast, his heartbeat still frantic.

"What?" he asked.

"I found you." she pointed at the bed. "What do I win?"

Harry looked back at the bed and then to her.

"I...I wasn't...playing." he replied shakily. "I was...h-hiding."

"Oh," she didn't didn't react, "why?"

Harry stared at her.

"I-I got scared."

She looked taken aback. She stared at him for a moment before getting up to her feet. Harry stayed where he was, watching the dark haired women. She brushed down her robes before turning to look at him. She smiled at him, her pretty face brightening at once.

"Are you going to stay there for the rest of the day?" she asked.

Harry didn't move.

"The sofa is more comfortable." she continued. "I would like to sit there rather than the floor." she met the confused stare. "But I can't sit there unless young master is sitting there first."

Harry's gaze narrowed. '_Master?_' why did she keep calling him master?

"Are you coming?" she asked.

Still, Harry neither spoke nor moved, but watched as she walked towards the sofa. His eyes widened when he saw the rectangular box, wrapped up in shiny paper, complete with a green ribbon, lying on the seat. Bellatrix lifted the present and held it in her delicate fingers.

"Master wanted you to have this." she ran a finger across it before holding it out.

Harry eyed the shiny parcel, he had never received a gift before. Curiosity got the better of him and slowly, the four year old got to his feet. He glanced once again at the dark haired woman before his gaze snapped back to the present. He walked over to her, his stomach twisting in both anxiety and excitement. Small hands reached out to take the present, just as his fingers touched the parcel, it was pulled upwards and out of his reach. Harry was startled. He stared at her in confusion and fear. She grinned at him.

"Not like that," she purred, "you have to demand it from me." she dangled the box high above him. "Command me to hand it over."

Harry reached out again and stuttered.

"P-please, c-can I h-have it?"

Bellatrix laughed, throwing back her head, making the dark hair dance around her face.

"Oh, dear!" she stared at Harry with amusement. "You can't say _that_ word." her eyes sparkled at him. "Demand it young master, don't ask me, tell me!"

Harry was almost in tears. He didn't know if this women was doing this on purpose; forcing him be rude to her just so she could go and tell his new father so he would punish him. Harry didn't want to be punished and he certainly didn't want to be rude to anyone, but most of all, he didn't want his new father being angry at him.

Bellatrix waited but Harry refused to fall for any tricks and instead, he just stood where he was, not saying or doing anything. With a sigh, Bellatrix lowered the parcel and held it out for him.

"Alright, have it your way, young master."

Harry tentatively reached out, half expecting the sparkly present to be yanked out of reach again, but this time, his fingers closed around the box and he pulled it out of her hand. He stood with it, just holding the present in his hands, marvelling at the feeling of it.

He looked up to see the women staring at him, smiling.

"Are you going to open it?" she asked.

Harry sat down on the sofa, lowering the parcel onto his lap. Slowly, his fingers reached for the green ribbon, tugging it open to drop away. He pulled at the shiny paper, ripping it off. He was momentarily worried about destroying the paper but the sight of the wooden box made all his worries disappear. Harry pulled a rectangular box free from the wrapper, a deeply rich mahogany box with strange engravings etched in the centre, that made no sense to Harry. His small fingers were running over the wood, feeling every inch of it in complete fascination. His first present, a wooden box but it meant everything to the child.

His fingers ran across the sides and he realised that the box had a removable lid. Gently, he lifted the top away and gaped at the contents. Inside the box, resting on blue silk cloth, was a book. With shaky fingers, Harry pulled the book out, staring at the front cover, which had a cartoon wizard holding up a wand, shooting out multicoloured sparks.

"Master thought you might like it." Harry looked up at Bellatrix, to see her watching him carefully. "My nephew has the same book, he really likes it and he's about the same age as you so, I suggested you may also enjoy it." she beamed, clearly proud of herself.

Harry looked back down at the book. He didn't know how to read, not one single word, but he kept that quiet. He didn't want his present taken away from him. Gently he opened the book and let out a gasp at the sight of the moving picture. It was the animated picture of a rabbit, hopping up and down, in a meadow. The next page had a picture of a young boy, a wizard, who had a wand. He pointed it at the rabbit. Harry turned over to the next page and saw the rabbit hit with a spell and he changed into a pig. Harry stared in amazement. He flicked through the first few pages and realised that it was a book of moving pictures only. There wasn't a single written word, anywhere.

"Is young master pleased?"

Harry looked up at her, his smile fighting it's way onto his face. He nodded.

"Yes, it's...it's great. Thank you!"

Bellatrix hissed, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"There! _Those_ words again!" she opened her eyes to stare at Harry. "You are the son of Lord Voldemort, the most powerful wizard in the world! You do not _thank_ anyone and you do not _ask_ for anything." she hissed the words with clear revulsion. "You demand it, you command others and you do not show gratitude. We are here to serve you, just as we do your father."

Harry nodded quickly, not wanting to anger her. She may tell his father that he was misbehaving.

"I...okay...I'll...I mean I won't...say that again." he was confused, very confused, but he figured he would make sense of things later.

"Master was concerned that you may be bored. This will keep you occupied for the time being." she gestured to the book.

Harry clutched at it, holding it close to him. He nodded again.

"Your...your name is Bellatrix?" he asked warily.

She nodded, smiling.

"It is, young master. But I am simply referred to as Bella."

"Bella." Harry tried the name, preferring it instantly to the more complicated name of Bellatrix.

"Yes, young master?"

Harry paused, worried about what he wanted to say. He eyed Bella. She seemed alright, maybe she wouldn't mind what he wanted to ask.

"Why...why do you keep calling me...master?"

Bella smiled.

"You are my master's son. Therefore you are my young master."

Harry nodded.

"Would you rather I call you by another name?" she asked, sensing his unease.

Harry paused, over-thinking his response again.

"I don't mind, whatever you want." he quickly answered.

"No, it's not what I want." Bella reminded him again. "Tell me what you want me to call you."

Harry paused, his shoulders drooped and eyes cast on the floor.

"Just...just Harry." he replied quietly.

"Okay, Just-Harry." Bella replied. "What would you like to do, Just-Harry?"

Harry stared at her in surprise, before the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile.

"No, I meant...only Harry."

"Oh, right." Bella playfully slapped her forehead. "How silly of me. What would you like for lunch, Only-Harry?"

Harry giggled.

"No, just Harry! I mean, only call me Harry!"

Bella smiled again, her eyes flashing at him.

"Right you are, Harry." she winked.

Harry was grinning, too distracted to realise he had just given Bella his first command.

xxx


	3. Not a Mother

**Disclaimer** I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to J K Rowling.

_Requested by Jooy_ - Bella comforts Harry after a nightmare

f_airytale. gone. wrong _ - It's a stormy night, Voldemort's away on a mission and Harry got a bad night and Bella's comforting him and singing to him...then somehow the Dark Lord comes back and asks this question as he sees her on the bed with Harry..."Bella don't tell me that you have started to care for the child?"

Dedicated to Jooy and fairytale. gone. wrong. I hope you like it!

**Not a Mother**

Bella settled in her favourite chair, her much loved book in hand and draped the blanket over her legs. The flames burned fiercely in the fireplace next to her, spreading much needed warmth in the spacious room.

The windows rattled as the wind howled outside. A brutal storm was brewing, strong winds whipped at the walls of Riddle manor, torrential rain beat down on the windows. At times, streaks of lightening lit up the night sky, flashing white into the room. Bella leaned further into her seat. She was not a woman that feared such things, but tonight, there was something in the wind that unnerved her. She pulled the blanket over herself and opened her book, distracting herself.

The silver orb on the mantle suddenly glowed, before the cries of a young child filled the room. Bella put down the book, twisting around in her seat to look at the orb. She hissed under her breath. This was the fourth time this week alone that the boy woke up, screaming because of nightmares. She waited, listening to the ragged cries of the child, waiting to see if he would calm himself down and go back to sleep, like he had the previous nights. But tonight, Harry's cries continued to echo around her room.

She waited another minute, hoping against hope that the child would stop weeping. She was not someone who could deal with crying children, not without her wand anyway. She closed her eyes and took a deep steadying breath. But Harry's cries didn't stop, they only got worse, until the point she thought she could hear him having difficulty breathing. She cursed under her breath and pulled the blanket away to get to her feet. She dropped her book onto her seat with a heavy heart. She would have to wait to read it another time.

xxx

Bella knocked on the magnificent mahogany doors before pushing them open. She stepped into the room, her dark gaze went straight to the bed. But the child was not in bed, he was sitting in front of it, leaning against it, knees drawn to his chest and head buried as sobs racked through his tiny frame.

"Harry?" Bella called.

Harry heard her, he must have, but he didn't respond. He was too far gone in his tears. He continued to sit as he was, head buried, raggedy breaths and sobs escaping him.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

Bella knelt before him. She reached out and touched his arm, but Harry pulled away, like he had been burned. A clap of thunder had Harry cry even harder and his whole being trembled. Bella glanced at the window and then back at Harry.

"Are you afraid of the storm?" she asked.

The five year old child shook his head, but still didn't raise it to look at her.

"Did you have a nightmare?" she asked, knowing full well he must have.

Harry didn't give a response this time but he trembled again, crying hard.

Bella sat back on her knees and stared at him. What should she do now? She had never seen the boy act this way. Usually, he suffered a nightmare, cried for a bit but managed to calm himself down and went right back to sleep. She figured he must have had a really bad nightmare tonight, and despite his protest, the stormy weather wasn't helping to keep him calm.

"Okay, Harry, you must get up. Sitting on a cold floor isn't good for you. You'll get sick." Bella reached out again and touched his arm, trying to prompt him to get up but Harry flinched away again.

"What will Master say when he returns?" Bella asked. The mention of Lord Voldemort made Harry quieten a little. "You know he's due to return in a day or two," Bella continued, "if he returns to find you sick, he will be very angry. After all, he commanded me to look after you while he was away on his mission. If you get sick, Master will blame me for not looking after you."

Slowly, Harry raised his head, only a fraction, so it was just his green eyes visible behind his forearms. Bella saw the child had cried so much, his black lashes were soaked with tears.

"You don't want me punished, do you?" she asked.

The word 'punished' got a reaction from Harry. He trembled in fear, gasping sobs threatened to break out but he shook his head violently in answer. Bella smiled and reached out a hand.

"Come on, then."

Harry didn't take her hand but he lifted his head, his face wet with tears. He made no move to get up. It seemed he had cried himself so much he was left with next to no energy.

Bella sighed and stood up. She leaned down to help him to his feet. She had only meant to hold him by the arms and hoist him up, but as soon as she leaned down, arms outstretched to hold onto him, Harry put both arms around her neck and clutched at her. Bella stilled but quickly straightened up, both her arms supporting Harry, while the child clung to her like she was a life source. Harry was sobbing softly now, face hid in her shoulder.

Bella was completely thrown. Never in her life, had anyone put their arms around her and held onto her like that. Never before, had any being sought comfort from her. It was an alien feeling, one that surprised and shocked her but at the same time, it warmed her in ways she could never have imagined.

Bella carried the young child to his bed and gently laid him back in his place. She tucked the covers over him and for a moment, she just stood there, lost as to what she should do now. Harry had, mercifully, stopped crying but whimpers still escaped him. His breathing was still uneven and laboured. But Bella had not the faintest clue what she should do. She turned to leave, maybe if left alone, Harry would calm down and go back to sleep.

As soon as she turned around to leave, Harry's hand shot out and he grabbed her robes.

"Please," he whispered, his voice hoarse from crying, "don't leave, please."

Bella nodded and moved towards him. She sat down next to him, leaning against the headboard. She would sit with him, until he fell asleep, that seemed like a good plan.

As soon as Bella sat down, Harry shifted, moving to rest his head in her lap, small hands clutched at her robes, to make sure she couldn't leave.

Again, Bella felt an alien emotion engulf her. A strange warmth filled her whole being, her stomach fluttered like mad. She could feel the child's tremors and she found herself reaching out to gently caress his hair. She had seen Narcissa do the same to Draco once, when he was upset. She ran her hand hesitantly over his head, stroking his unruly dark hair. It seemed to soothe him. His trembling subsided and the last of his sobs finally died away.

For long minutes, they sat like that, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire or the howling of the wind outside.

"What was your nightmare about?" Bella asked.

Harry tensed, his hands clenched into tiny fists, her robes still in his grip. He shook his head.

"If you talk about it, it might help." she said.

Harry kept quiet. His fists slowly unclenched, but his fingers still played with Bella's robes. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

"My dad." he whispered.

Bella felt a chill run down her spine. She nodded.

"I see."

Harry nestled deeper into her lap.

"I dreamt that he...that my dad...I remembered his...his punishment...when I...when I didn't clear the table after dinner." he shivered, as the memory came to the forefront of his mind. "He broke...broke my arm that day."

Bella was quiet. She remembered that day too. It was two years ago, when Lord Voldemort had decided that broken bones was a good lesson for the three year old Harry to learn. She had stood back and watched as the child was beaten mercilessly. She had not flinched when the loud snap of his breaking bones had echoed in the room. She remembered clearly how badly Harry had cried then. She also remembered Lord Voldemort grabbing the child by the throat and hissing at him, '_nothing like broken bones to teach you a lesson!_'

She snapped out of the memory, coming back to reality where Harry was brokenly retelling her what she had witnessed for herself.

"I saw that day again. I dreamt it was happening," Harry whispered, "and...and then...my dad...he came here and he saw me with...with father and he...he hurt...him and took me away! He took me away from father and hurt me again...and...and...!" he started to cry and buried his head into her lap, shaking as sobs broke through him once again.

For the first time in her life, Bella felt that one emotion she had always told herself she couldn't feel. The one feeling she herself had famously said was _poison_ to Death Eaters. She felt it rise inside her, like a strange beast, threatening to undo all she had worked for and everything she had become. For the first time in her life, Bella felt guilty.

She looked down at the little boy, sobbing in her lap, left scarred so deeply by what she and her master had done. She noticed in the past year that his nightmares were progressively getting worse.

When they had methodically worked to break the child, pushed him until he couldn't take any more, Bella had not felt anything, other than the breathtaking exhilaration that always came at doing her master's bidding. She didn't feel anything for the child. He was just a piece of meat, to be pushed, beaten, moulded into whatever shape her master saw fit.

But now she was instructed to be with the child, to keep him comfortable, happy and at peace. Lord Voldemort had repeatedly told her how important it was to keep Harry contended. So they were treating the boy in complete contrast to how they _used_ to treat him. They had to show Harry they cared, that they wouldn't hurt him, that he meant something to them. But what Bella had foolishly thought to be a simple, straightforward, acting task, was starting to feel too real. Now when Bella saw what her actions had done to the boy, remembered those memories, she felt remorse and that scared her more than anything.

Bella ran her fingers through Harry's hair again, trying to stop the child from crying.

"Shhh, hush, Harry, it's okay." she said quietly. "It was just a dream. No one is coming to get you. Potter can never take you away from us. Never."

She could feel his hot tears seep through and wet her robes. And as strange as it was, she found she didn't care. She, Bellatrix, the witch who would not stand to allow a speck of dirt to touch her clothes, was perfectly okay with having Harry's tears stain her robes. She was more concerned for Harry to stop crying before he made himself ill, than for her robes getting wet or stained. She wondered what was happening to her?

"Hush, Harry, it's okay." she tried.

But Harry was still sobbing. It seemed the fear of being taken away by James Potter was too much for the child to cope with.

In the midst of all this, a sudden memory came at Bellatrix. A time when she was just a girl and had foolish fears. She remembered her mother, on the rare occasion she was home and sober enough to care, sit with her and sing a lullaby. It always seemed to work on her and her sisters. It used to calm them right down.

Bella looked down at the trembling boy and took in a breath. She started humming, what little she could remember of the tune and continued to stroke his hair. It was tuneless and bizarre and completely unlike how her mother used to do it but Bella carried on, humming quietly, soothing the little boy in her lap. Sure enough, Harry's sobs died down and the tension in his small body ebbed away. He relaxed, pulling his face out of her lap at last and shifted so he was lying on his side, with his cheek pressed into her lap.

Bella's tuneless soft humming continued, gently lulling the boy to sleep. Within minutes, Harry was fast asleep, still in her lap. Bella fell quiet and a small hesitant smile came to her lips. She reached out and gently caressed his tear stained cheek.

"Bella?"

Startled, Bella looked up at the door to find Lord Voldemort standing there, a bemused expression on his face. She made to get up, so she could fall to her knees and greet her master, but he held up a hand, stopping her. He walked into the room, his red eyed gaze on the sleeping boy in her lap.

"What happened?" he asked.

"He had another nightmare. He's had a few recently, these last three nights, he's been disturbed." absently, her fingers continued to caress his cheek, "tonight was the worst he's ever been. He was deeply distressed, so I came to him."

Voldemort smirked and tilted his head to the side, his red eyes studied his only female Death Eater.

"You came to offer comfort?" he asked, "Bella, don't tell me you have started to care for the child?"

Bella didn't say anything, but she felt heat rise to her face, especially when she couldn't get her protest past her throat. Lord Voldemort chuckled and shook his head.

"Need I remind you, you're not his mother."

Bella smiled then. As gently as she could, she lifted Harry's head off her lap and placed him back on his pillow. She got up and pulled the covers over him. Harry snuggled deeper into his bed, fast asleep. She turned to face Voldemort.

"No, Master, I'm not his mother and neither do I wish to be." she looked back at the sleeping child and smiled, "I don't know what I am to him, what name can be given to our relationship," she turned to look at Voldemort, "but it's a relationship nonetheless."

Voldemort shook his head at her, still smirking.

"Be careful Bella," he warned, "do not get so attached. He is a weapon, one that will leave the world scorched and burned." his eyes roamed over Harry's sleeping form before meeting Bella's heavy lidded eyes. "It may not be wise to get emotionally invested in him."

Bella smiled, her eyes flashed with mischief.

"Of course not, my lord." she replied, "but I am a true servant to my master. I follow in his footsteps, no matter where they lead," she turned to glance suggestively at Harry before meeting her master's eyes, "even if they lead me to this little one."

Voldemort eyed her with confusion.

"Meaning?"

"Nothing at all, my lord," Bella replied, "but when you return from a three day mission and the first thing you do, is come check on the child..." she trailed off on purpose, smirking, "well, it's not that you're becoming attached to the boy in any way." she teased.

Voldemort didn't respond, but the way his eyes flashed at her and just the hint of a smile curved the corners of his lips, Bella knew she had hit the mark.

"Let him sleep, retire to your room." he instructed.

Bella bowed.

"Yes, my lord."

She walked past him and headed for the door. She cast a last glance behind her and saw Lord Voldemort at Harry's side, red eyes fixed on the sleeping child. He reached out, his fingertips barely touched the tips of Harry's hair. She smiled and stepped out, closing the door behind her.

xxx

Check out the link on the profile page to see the pic that corresponds to this oneshot!


	4. Best Friends

**Disclaimer** I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to J K Rowling.

Tacos-bishh's request - _Harry meets Draco for the first time - some moments between Harry&Draco that made them the best friends they are. I'd like to see the kinds of things they got up to when they were younger. _

Kgillcash's request - _One thing in particular I would really love to read about it, one of those  
things that EVERY parent must dread... "Where do babies come from?"_

Bre2734's request - _Harry first sees a Death Eater gets tortured/killed _

Dedicated to Tacos-bishh, Kgillcash and Bre2734. Hope you like it!

**Best Friends**

Harry was not complaining. No, he would never complain, not to his father, not to Bella, not even to Lucius. But his unspoken distress didn't go unnoticed, for Harry was suffering from the worst infliction of all time; boredom.

Now at the age of six, Harry had been living with his new father for two years. In that time, he had found there wasn't much to do when his father was busy, especially when Bella and Lucius were called away to the 'meetings' his father had. Gradually, Harry was being left on his own for longer periods, more frequently than before and while Harry _never_ complained, his dejected mood was plain to see.

It was perhaps for this reason alone, that Lord Voldemort allowed Lucius Malfoy to bring his young son into Riddle manor for the first time, in an effort to alleviate some of Harry's boredom.

Lucius Malfoy was besides himself with joy. He spent days, drilling rules into Draco's head, training him in the proper etiquette in which to greet the Dark Lord's heir. An aristocrat such as Lucius Malfoy, knew where to invest his time and loyalty, to reap the richest rewards. If his son could befriend the Dark Lord's heir, the Malfoys would become _untouchable_, so to speak.

Finally, came the day on a sunny Friday afternoon, when Harry met Draco Malfoy.

Life for both boys was never quite the same again.

_Why Can't We Be Friends?_

It was exceedingly dull, Harry admitted, to play exploding snap by yourself. At first it was not so bad. Then the novelty of the wizarding card game wore off, leaving Harry lazily slapping card after card onto the pile, not even reacting when a pair was matched and the deck gave off small explosions.

"Harry?"

The six year old turned at the sound of his name. He had recognised Lucius' drawl but was still startled in surprise. He knew there were to be no Death Eaters on the grounds of Riddle manor today, so he had been sitting outside in the sun, without his mask. He turned around with a frown, lips parting to express his annoyance of being startled like that but his voice didn't quite make it out.

Lucius hadn't come alone.

Harry stood up, brushing grass off his robes, emerald eyes fixed on the small blond boy, with a pale, pointed face and sharp grey eyes. The boy stood next to Lucius Malfoy, a perfect miniature version. Lucius immediately bowed before Harry.

"I would like to introduce my son, Draco Malfoy." Lucius pushed the boy forward a step.

Draco met Harry's eyes, then suddenly bowed before him, lifting his head only after a full minute.

"It's a great honour to meet you." Draco said, but his words were stiff and had the scent of insincerity.

Harry didn't say anything in return.

"I'll let you boys talk," Lucius beamed, sending Draco an encouraging look, "I have some business with Bellatrix. I will return shortly."

He left, head held high with the Malfoy smirk spread wide on his face. Draco watched his father leave. Only when the aristocrat wizard had disappeared in the distance, did the six year old turn back around.

Harry saw the change in expression at once. The boy's grey eyes narrowed as he observed Harry, scanning him from head to foot, lips lifted in a sneer and his whole demeanour relaxed.

"So, _you're_ the Dark Lord's son?" he asked.

Harry nodded slowly, regarding the other boy silently. Draco's sneer deepened.

"You're not how I imagined." he said airily.

"Oh?" Harry replied, "why's that?"

"I don't know," Draco's eyes scanned him from head to foot, "I thought you'd be taller."

Harry felt a stab of annoyance.

"I'm the same height as you." he retorted.

"Yes, but _I'm_ six!" Draco proudly stated.

"I'm six too." Harry replied.

Draco ignored him. He walked around Harry with slow steps, studying him. Harry was starting to get irritated.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing," Draco stood, hands clasped behind him, resembling Lucius' usual stance. "I was looking for the mark."

"Mark?" Harry frowned.

"Lord Voldemort's son would have a mark, like father does on his arm." his gaze rested on Harry's exposed arms, gazing from left to right, "you don't have the mark?"

"Father says, I don't need it."

Draco looked affronted, like he had never heard anything more blasphemous.

"Don't _need_ it?" he asked, "of course you need it!"

"_I_ don't." Harry stated proudly.

Grey eyes narrowed.

"Where's your mother?" he asked.

"Don't have one."

"_Everyone_ has a mother."

"I don't."

Draco pursed his lips.

"You're lying."

"Am not!" Harry defended. No one had called him a liar, not in two years now.

"Yes, you are," Draco said, "everyone has a mother. You have a father _and_ a mother."

"I only need a father," Harry replied hotly, "and I have one."

Draco stopped. He gazed at Harry, his brow furrowed in thought.

"You don't look like the Dark Lord." he mused.

"How do you know?" Harry asked, "have you even met my father?"

"No," Draco replied, "but I've seen his pictures." he studied Harry again with a tilted head, "you don't look like him at all."

"So?" Harry asked.

"You have to look like your father," Draco said, like it was the number one rule, "I look like my father, Nott looks like his father, Pansy looks like her mother," he rattled off on his fingers, "but you? You don't look like the Dark Lord." he sneered at him, "you don't even have red eyes." he scoffed. "I don't think you're his son. You're lying!"

A spike of red hot fury travelled down Harry's body. His little hands curled into fists.

"Shut up!" he spat.

"You are, aren't you?" Draco asked, smirking, "just like you're lying that you don't have a mother. You're a liar. Lord Voldemort's not your father."

"I said, shut up!"

Harry went for him, so angry he saw red. His hands curled around the Draco's neck, pushing him down. Draco fell back with a yelp, falling to the grass, Harry on top of him. Harry surprised the other boy, and even himself, when he pulled back his hand and struck Draco across the face with his fist.

"OW!" Draco howled, both hands flew to his nose in pain.

Harry was shocked. He never knew he had it in him to strike another like that. So far, he had only been on the receiving end of such brutality. But before he could do anything, Draco's hands left his own face and buried themselves into Harry's hair.

"Ah!" Harry cried as Draco pulled and before he knew it, he was pinned under Draco.

Draco followed Harry's example and struck him with clenched fists, blow after blow, across Harry's cheek, his mouth and even his nose.

Harry managed, after several attempts, to grab Draco's flailing hands and he pushed with all his might, successfully throwing him off. Harry scrambled to get on top of Draco again and this time, there was no regret as he threw punch after slap, at any place he could. Draco shrieked and cried, shielding himself best he could with his arms.

Draco's hand caught Harry' chin and he was knocked off again. Draco leapt on top of Harry, giving back as good as he took. His punches and slaps rained down on Harry.

"DRACO! NO! GET OFF HIM!"

Draco was pulled clean off Harry by his shocked and completely horrified father.

"Lemme go! Lemme go!" Draco thrashed in Lucius' arms, face tinged pink and hair dishevelled. His face twisted into a snarl as he tried to kick out at Harry.

Harry scrambled to his feet and leapt at Draco, but was pulled back by Bella.

"Let me go!" Harry yelled, "I'm gonna pummel him into next week!"

"I'm going to turn you into fish food!" Draco spluttered, still trying to get free.

"Draco! Hold your tongue!" Bella snapped with a struggling Harry in her arms, "or I'll personally remove it!"

Draco fell still, eyes impossibly wide and quickly filling with tears.

"Aunt Bella?"

But Bella was glaring at him, at her only nephew. Draco looked from her to the boy in her arms. He snarled at him.

"I'll get you, you little liar!" he threatened.

"I'm _not_ a liar!" Harry screamed.

"Take him away, Lucius." Bella hissed.

Lucius and Bella left in opposite directions, each carrying a spluttering, enraged six year old in their arms.

xxx

It was almost an hour later, when Lucius came knocking at Harry's door. Bella was with Harry, having checked over him thoroughly for injuries but not finding any. It seems Draco's novice physical attack had failed to leave any marks.

Harry looked up at the knock to see a subdued looking Lucius. Next to him was the even more subdued looking Draco. Harry frowned at him.

"May we come in?" Lucius asked.

Harry nodded.

Lucius walked in with Draco in tow. He bowed before Harry and then straightened up. Begrudgingly, Draco did the same.

"Draco has something to say to you." Lucius pushed Draco forward.

The blond six year old stepped up to Harry. His grey-eyed gaze flickered to his aunt Bella, but at the sight of her angered expression, he quickly looked back at Harry. He cleared his throat.

"I-I've come to...to ask for your...um," with a frown, he turned back to look at his father. Lucius mouthed the next word and Draco turned back around, "your forgiveness. I shouldn't have hit you. I'm sorry."

The words were rehearsed and insincere. Harry could see it in the other boy's eyes, how angry he still was.

"Now leave," Bella was the one to speak, hissing her words to Draco, "be sure to come back, once the Dark Lord summons you."

Draco looked up at her through his lashes and nodded.

"Have a real good think about what you did, Draco," Bella continued, disappointment thick in her voice, "you will be punished most severely for your transgression."

Draco frowned. He looked like he didn't understand. Neither did Harry for that matter. At seeing their twin expressions, Bella explained to Draco, "you did something very, very wrong. For that, the Dark Lord will punish you."

Evidently, that Draco did understand. His eyes widened, mouth quivered and he looked back at his father. But Lucius remained stony faced, refusing to even look at him. Draco turned back to his aunt.

"I...I said, I'm sorry." he meekly offered.

"You raised your _hand_ at our young master!" Bella spit the words out, "did you really think you would get to keep that hand?"

Draco paled horribly. He lifted a finger at Harry.

"But he started-"

"Shut up!" Lucius suddenly snarled from behind him, "you will not speak, not another word!"

Draco nodded and obediently fell quiet..

Harry watched as Lucius, tight lipped and pale, walked over and grabbed Draco by the shoulders, to steer him towards the door. Harry watched, his gaze rested on Draco, bowed head, tearful with quivering lips and drooped shoulders. A vast difference to when he saw him outside, standing tall and proud next to his father.

"Lucius, wait." Harry called.

Both Malfoys stopped, turning around, frowning at Harry. Bella watched with surprise as Harry got up and walked over to them. Harry didn't look at Lucius, he kept his eyes fixed on Draco, who was looking at him with dread now.

Without saying a word, Harry pulled back his hand and whacked Draco, one last time across the cheek. Lucius and Bella watched, wide eyed, as Draco turned back to look at Harry, a whimper already starting to escape him.

"There," Harry said, "now we're even." he looked up at Lucius, "there's no need to tell father."

Lucius' lips parted in surprise, eyebrows raised.

"But...but the Dark Lord-"

"I settled it," Harry interrupted, "besides, it's my fight," he looked Draco right in the eye, "I'll tell father if I want to," he looked back at Lucius, "so you don't have to say anything," he twisted around to look at the equally stunned looking woman, "you too, Bella."

When he turned back to face Draco, he saw the confusion and relief on him. Draco didn't say anything, but simply sniffed back his tears. When Lucius bowed once more in front of Harry, Draco was quick to follow.

"Thank you, Harry." Lucius uttered quietly and turned, leading Draco out.

Draco cast one last look at Harry, before his father steered him firmly out of the room.

xxx

A week passed before Harry saw Draco again. The blond six year old arrived early on a Friday morning, this time on his own. He knocked at the door, startling Harry out of his daydream. Slowly, Harry got off his sofa and stood up, arms crossed and expression steeled.

Draco stayed at the door, fidgeting nervously with the square parcel in his hand.

"Can I come in?" he asked at last.

Harry regarded him silently, before nodding once.

Draco walked inside, closing the door behind him. They stood in silence, each just staring at the other.

"Father said I should come," Draco started, "he thinks I should try and make peace."

"Does he?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded.

"So does mother, actually," Draco added, "this was her idea." he lifted up the square parcel.

Harry's interest peaked, despite himself. He walked a little closer.

"What is it?"

Draco shrugged.

"She said it was a peace offering," he looked back at Harry, "whatever that is."

"Do you wanna open it?" Harry asked, curious as to what a 'peace offering' could be.

Draco hesitated, before slowly extending his hand, holding out the gift.

"You open it," he said, "it's for you."

Harry looked at it, unsure for a moment. Then, with one hand, he reached forward and took the package from him. It was surprisingly heavy. Walking back to the sofa, Harry sat down and placed the parcel on top of the table. Draco came and sat down across from him, staring curiously at the parcel too. With careful fingers, Harry slit the paper open and pulled out a square wooden box. It rattled in Harry's hands. He set the rich mahogany wooden box back onto the table and lifted the lid, peering inside. With knitted brow, Harry pulled out a thick square cardboard, folded perfectly in half. He pulled out a handful of strange looking black and white ornaments.

"I know what that is," Draco breathed, "it's a chess set."

Harry looked up at him.

"A chess set?" he asked, "what do you do with it?"

"You play it, of course," Draco replied. He took the folded cardboard from Harry's hand and opened it, revealing a checked pattern of black and white squares. Harry stared at it, counting the squares. Sixty four, thirty two black and thirty two white. Draco set it down, between Harry and himself. Harry fetched every last piece of the black and white ornaments out of the box, while Draco set them up, frowning at each piece. Harry could tell, despite his actions, Draco didn't know where everything was supposed to go.

"Assume your positions." Draco said.

Harry watched, amazed, as the little pieces began jumping across the board, settling themselves in two rows on either side of the board.

"Do you know how to play?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Draco replied, "I watch father play all the time."

"Lucius _plays?_" Harry asked, finding the very idea somehow ludicrous.

"It's a _grown-up _game," Draco answered, "and since _I_ am now _six_, I am perfectly able to play wizarding chess." he looked at Harry and then added a quick, "you too, of course."

Harry looked down at the board.

"What do we do?"

"We tell them where to go." Draco gestured to the pawns.

"How?" Harry asked.

"Like this," Draco leaned down and cleared his throat, "E2 to E3."

Before Harry's eyes, a white piece slid across the board.

"Cool!" Harry's eyes gleamed, "my turn," he glanced around the board, "B2 to B3."

The black piece moved along one square.

"Not bad," Draco grinned, "D2 to D3."

Of course, the boys didn't know that what they were doing was merely moving the pawns across the board, not actually playing chess. But it was enough to entertain them. When the first casualty of the game happened, both boys leapt up with excitement. Harry didn't even care that it was his pawn that was knocked clean off the board.

"Awesome!" he laughed.

"Try and get one of mine." Draco grinned.

Harry did just that and both had to leap back as the white pawn went flying off the board and across the room.

"I'll get it!" Draco ran across the room, picked up the piece from the lush carpet and jumped back in his seat. "Alright, my turn!" he rubbed his hands in glee.

Harry watched him, an uneasy feeling clawed it's way up from his stomach into his throat. He swallowed heavily and dropped his gaze to the table.

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

A pause before,

"You were right," Draco looked up from the board, brow knitted. Harry glanced up at him, "about me not being Lord Voldemort's son?" he nodded, "you were right, I'm not his real son."

Draco didn't say anything, but his eyes widened, eyebrows raised. Harry preferred to stare at the table.

"My-my mum and dad," he licked his lips, heart thudding at the mere mention of them, "they didn't want me. They...they hated me."

"Why?" Draco asked, quietly.

Harry shrugged.

"Don't know, they just did," he picked at the corner of the table, his fingernail chipping at the wood, "they used to tell me to leave all the time." Harry looked up, "so one day, I did."

Draco looked confused, but he nodded anyway.

"That's when I met Nagini and she brought me to Lord Voldemort." Harry continued.

At the mention of the snake, Draco's eyes widened impossibly and he let out a gasp.

"Nagini! The Dark Lord's serpent, Nagini?"

Harry nodded.

"Yeah, you know about her?"

"Everyone knows about her!" Draco started, excitedly, "she's supposed to be as big as a house and has ten eyes!"

Harry wrinkled his nose.

"No, she doesn't. She's not like that at all."

"She's not?" Draco blinked," but Nott said his father told him what Nagini looks like," he took in a breath, "as black as the night, as big as a house, Nagini's ten eyes will find you, even if you're as small as a mouse."

Harry pulled a face.

"That's just a story, Nagini isn't like that."

"What she like then?" Draco asked, leaning forward, eyes gleaming.

"She's, well, she is big, compared to most snakes." Harry started, "but she's not big as a house! How can a snake be _'big as a house'_? And she's only got two eyes."

"Were you scared when you saw her?" Draco asked.

"Very scared," Harry admitted, "she just came at me. I think she was about to eat me, but when she heard me speak, she stopped and started talking to me. She told me-"

"Wait, wait!" Draco held up a hand, "you _spoke_ to her?" he asked.

"Yeah." Harry nodded.

"Are you a...a-" Draco struggled to remember the name, "you speak that...that different language-"

"Parseltongue." Harry supplied.

"Yeah, Parseltongue, that's it." Draco nodded. "How did you do that?"

Again, Harry just shrugged.

"Don't know. I've always been able to speak to snakes." he shivered a little at the memory of his dad's beatings. It was a severe belting if his dad saw him talking to the little snakes that used to slither inside Godric's Hollow from the garden.

"That's wicked cool!" Draco's voice pulled him back to the present. A half smile lifted the corners of Harry's mouth. He raised his gaze to look at the smiling boy.

"Yeah?"

"I would do anything to be able to speak to snakes." Draco gushed.

"I can show you." Harry offered.

"Yeah?" Draco asked.

"Yeah." Harry confirmed.

Both boys dived into the particulars of Parseltongue, with Harry demonstrating the basics and Draco following awkwardly after him. The black and white pieces hopped indignantly, trying to get their attention.

xxx

And just like that, the seeds to their friendship were planted, that over the years blossomed into a brotherhood, one that neither of the boys could have imagined.

xxx

_The Birds and the Bees_

A seven year old Harry gazed at the picture, trying to make sense of it. It was not that the picture of the hippogriff was difficult to make out or even understand. No, it was the picture of the baby hippogriff that was snuggling to it's mother's side, that had Harry confused. He wasn't even looking at the text, perfectly ignoring the factfile on what kind of a creature a hippogriff was. He was trying to figure something else out.

Harry put the book down on his lap and glanced at the dark haired man, sitting across the large chamber, head bowed as he worked through his own paperwork. He didn't want to disturb his father. He had been told, if he was going to insist on being with his father, he had to be quiet and not interrupt, unless it was important. Was this important?

Harry frowned, glancing down at the picture again. He decided it was. How was he supposed to keep on studying, when this one question kept niggling at the back of his mind? He turned in his seat, shifting on the sofa, so he could face Voldemort.

"Father?"

"What is it, Harry?" Voldemort didn't look up, but kept on writing, his black quill scratching at the parchment.

Harry glanced once more at the infant hippogriff's picture.

"Where do babies come from?"

The quill stopped. Slowly, Lord Voldemort raised his head to stare at Harry, red eyes narrowed and brow knitted.

"What?"

"Babies?" Harry repeated, "where do they come from?"

Lord Voldemort didn't speak. His red-eyed gaze studied the seven year old intently.

"Why do you ask?"

Harry shrugged, then remembered how much his father hated that action when in his presence. He quickly offered an explanation, to cover his mistake.

"I was just reading about hippogriffs," he held up his _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them,_ "and I saw a picture of a baby hippogriff." he met the red eyes, "I just wondered, where do baby hippogriffs come from and that got me thinking," Harry's brow knitted, "where do _all_ babies come from? I mean like people and animals and stuff?"

"Mothers, Harry," Voldemort answered, rather tightly, "babies come from their mothers."

"I know that," Harry brushed away his father's feeble attempt to avoid the topic, "but _how_ do babies come? How do they get into their mother's tummy?"

For the first time in Harry's life, he saw his father look lost. His mouth was opening and then clicking shut again, red eyes narrowed but avoiding him completely. He was surprised to see his father shake his head, his expression resembled someone who had swallowed a slice of lemon.

"I don't have time for this!" he suddenly snapped, "read your book, _quietly_, or go to your own room!"

Harry didn't argue. He turned around and picked up his book again, reading silently.

Lord Voldemort lowered his head over the parchment, quill in hand, but he couldn't work. He was now distracted. Never in his life, did he think he would have to face _this_ kind of a question.

He glanced at the seven year old and silently groaned. Harry was pouting. Great! Now he had the afternoon in stony silence and dinner with a petulant child to look forward to. _Perfect!_ This was the reason he avoided telling Harry off. It took forever to get him to open up again and Voldemort needed Harry to be open. He needed Harry to be an open book if he was going to keep his control over the boy. The minute Harry got upset and started shutting him out, he would lose the hold he had been working on, for six years now.

Voldemort sighed and rubbed at his head. Truth was, there was no point in getting annoyed. The child had only asked a very natural question. It deserved an answer. But that didn't mean it was _him_ that had to give the answer.

xxx

"Look at me, I'm a slug." Draco whispered as he held up the horned slug before flicking it at Harry.

"Quit it." Harry snapped, pulling the thing out of his hair.

"Haha." Draco fished another one out of the glass jar and flicked it again. This time, the slimy thing smacked off Harry's cheek.

"I said, quit it!" Harry hissed. He picked up both slugs and hurled them at Draco. They hit the blond boy square on the head and Draco shrieked, frantically brushing them out of his hair.

"Ha!" Harry mocked, smirking at him.

Lucius turned around from the blackboard.

"Settle down, boys," he lightly reprimanded, "focus on your cauldron, not your hair." his pointed look directed at his own son.

Draco pulled his hand away and dropped his gaze. Sitting next to him, Harry sniggered.

On rare occasions, Draco was allowed to attend the Potions lessons with Harry at Riddle manor. But Lucius was starting to regret it. On his own, Harry was a model student; working hard, listening to his instructions with rapt attention and always completing the practical lesson, no matter how long it took. Enter Draco into the equation and suddenly Harry was slacking off, catapulting ingredients across the room and barely completing his practical work.

Lucius rubbed at his brow, trying to reign in his temper, at the snickering of the boys. From now on, he was leaving Draco home. He was far too much of a distraction for Harry.

"Enough now," Lucius snapped, forcing the brunt of his annoyance at his own son and not Lord Voldemort's, "concentrate."

Both boys nodded and sat up straighter, paying him their undivided attention, for the time being. Lucius turned back to the board to finish the last of the instructions.

His foul mood today wasn't just because of the boys' antics. It was the task he had been _cursed_ with, one that he had to do at the end of today's lessons. He closed his eyes, grimacing at just the thought of _The Talk._

Lord Voldemort's instructions swam back to the forefront of his mind.

_'You have a son, Lucius. Have you spoken to him about the facts of life? No? Well then, you can sit both boys down and give them The Talk. Do it by tomorrow.'_

Lucius cursed to himself. Why did he have to do it? And with the two boys together, the questions were bound to be endless. He stepped away from the board, allowing the boys to see the next part of the instructions, before they faded.

Lucius sat and waited, watching the two boys finish the day's lesson. When the _Boil-Cure Potion_ was completed, samples corked and the workstations cleared, he finally got up.

"Remain seated." he held up a hand as Harry and Draco stood up.

The pair shared a confused glance but sat back down, frowning at Lucius.

"Is there another practical?" Harry asked.

"No," Lucius moved closer, standing before them. "There is another matter I wish to...speak about."

"If this is about the slugs, Draco started it." Harry said.

"I did not!" Draco protested, "you hit me with frogs spleen last week."

"To get you back for the bats droppings you pelted me with." Harry replied.

"Enough," Lucius held up a hand, "as spectacular as your attempts are to deplete my potion ingredients, it's not what I need to talk about."

Harry and Draco shared identical looks of confusion as well as curiosity. Lucius stood tall.

"I believe you two are approaching the age at which one has the insatiable curiosity about the facts of life."

A perfect moment of silence, before both boys let out an identical,

"Huh?"

Lucius sighed.

"I believe you were enquiring about where babies come from." he said to Harry.

"Oh, yeah, that," Harry scratched his nose, "I was just...curious."

Behind him, Draco sniggered.

"How stupid are you?" he asked.

Harry twisted in his seat to glare at him.

"Oh, so do _you_ know where babies come from?"

"_Yes,_" Draco mocked, "of course I do, I'm not an idiot."

Harry swung around to face him.

"Where then?" he challenged.

"They come from their mother's stomachs." he replied.

Harry blinked at him.

"I know that, you numpty!" he scowled, "but how do the babies get in there? And how do they get out?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but found in fact, he didn't have the answer. Both boys turned to look up at Lucius, who breathed out a defeated sigh.

"Infants are indeed inside their mother's stomachs," he started, "as to how they got in there," he paused, "well, let's just say, it's like a seed. Babies grow inside their mother's stomach, until they are ready to be born."

Harry and Draco, if anything, looked horrified.

"They _grow?_" Draco asked, "like a plant?"

"_Inside?_" Harry pulled a face, "wouldn't that...hurt?"

"I don't know," Lucius replied, "you'll be glad to know you're not a female, and so never have to face that."

"How does the seed get into their tummy?" Harry asked.

"It's obvious," Draco interrupted, "they swallow it," he turned to Lucius, "right, father?"

Lucius grimaced.

"Not exactly, no." he summoned his chair and say down, facing the boys. "You see, the seeds have to come from the father," he explained, "that is why a baby has a mother and a father. You need both."

The boys nodded.

"Is that the same for animals too?" Harry asked.

"Yes, you need a male and a female for any type of procreation." at the twin looks of confusion, he reiterated, "for any type of a baby, animal or human, you need both a father and a mother."

"Oh, okay," Harry nodded, "so how does the baby come out?"

"Is it from the belly button?" Draco asked.

Harry turned to him, annoyed.

"How can it be from the belly button?"

"It's a _button!_" Draco pointed out, "maybe you push it and the tummy opens so the baby can climb out."

Harry turned to look at Lucius questioningly.

"Very imaginative," Lucius couldn't help but smile, "but no, Draco, that's not what happens."

"No?" the blond boy asked, "how does it get out then?"

"The mother has to give birth to it." Lucius explained.

"Birth?" Harry asked, "how?"

"Think about it," Lucius prompted, "if you were to swallow a coin, how would it come out?"

Both boys had furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. Then Harry's bright green eyes widened and a look of horror blanketed his features.

"No!" he breathed.

Lucius inclined his head.

"Yes."

"They have to-babies come out from...from down there!"

Lucius didn't have it in him to describe the exact science of childbirth, so he just smiled.

Draco caught on to what was being suggested and he recoiled in his seat.

"Ewww!" he shook his head, "that's horrid!"

"That's how you were born." Lucius pointed out.

Harry and Draco turned to look at each other, shell shocked and in complete denial.

"No I didn't!" Draco objected.

"I'm going to be sick," Harry said queasily.

"You asked for it," Lucius said, smiling now. He was actually enjoying it, freaking out the troublesome pair, "it's my job to give you the truth." he stood up, "now, I think your curiosity is sufficiently quenched, it's time I take my leave."

Harry looked up at him.

"Wait, you didn't explain how the father puts the seed _into_ the mother?"

Lucius' smile slipped off his face. He remained standing.

"Come along, Draco, we need to go." he said quickly.

"But you didn't give me an answer." Harry stopped him.

Lucius took a moment before he lowered himself into his seat again.

"You don't have to know exactly what happens," Lucius stated softly, "just understand, when a father and mother love each other, they meet and their bond forms the seed that grows inside the mother, nurtured and protected for nine months, until it's ready to come into this world."

Harry and Draco were silent for a moment.

"That makes no sense." Draco said.

Lucius closed his eyes in defeat.

"How can a seed get into the mother's tummy if she doesn't swallow it?" Draco asked with a furrowed brow.

"Yeah, and what do you mean by 'meet'? Fathers and mothers live in the same house, they meet each other all the time?" Harry asked, confused.

"Merlin, help me." Lucius muttered, "okay," he sat taller, head held high, "I'm going to tell you as bluntly as I can." he took in a breath, "the seeds are inside a male's penis, the male puts his penis inside the mother to plant his seed into her womb. That's how a baby is made "

Harry and Draco's mouths dropped open, eyes wide and round. The expression on the two boys would have made Lucius laugh, if he wasn't feeling so nauseated himself.

"Oh my God!" Harry exclaimed.

"I don't have any seeds," Draco sounded worried. He turned to Harry, "do you have any?"

"No, I don't think so." Harry shook his head.

"You will when you're grown up," Lucius placated, "heaven help us when _that_ time comes," he muttered to himself. "Now, I believe that is the end of this discussion. Draco, come along."

"Wait, wait," Harry held up a hand, looking, if possible, even more confused. "You said a father has to put his penis into the mother," he looked worried, "where does he put it?"

Lucius closed his eyes.

_'Merlin, help me!' _

xxx

_My Father's Men_

"Watch where you're going!" Harry's furious whisper echoed in the darkness.

"I would, if I could see!" Draco replied.

"Feel your way," Harry replied, then almost a minute later, "ow, that's my foot, idiot!"

"Sorry, sorry."

The two nine year old boys, blindly made their way through the narrow passageway, inching their way forward. It was pitch black, no hint of light anywhere. Draco followed behind Harry, holding onto his sleeve so he didn't get left behind. Harry was guessing which way to go, literally feeling his way forward. At long last, the texture under his fingers changed from the rough wall to a smooth surface.

"I think this is it." Harry whispered.

"Open it." Draco urged, a note of urgency in his voice, "this darkness is starting to freak me out."

"Keep your voice down." Harry warned. He leaned forward, both hands placed on the smooth, slippery wall. "_Open, I command you._" he hissed in parselmouth.

The wall began to shift, running under his touch.

"_Stop!_" he hissed, when the door had parted a mere crack.

The light from the chamber beyond filtered through the narrow opening. Harry twisted around. He could see Draco's nervous form behind him.

"_It's okay,_" he assured him.

Draco's frown deepened.

"In English, Harry." he urged.

"Oh, sorry," Harry grinned sheepishly, "it's hard to slip out of it sometimes."

Draco pulled a face.

"You don't have to rub it in."

"It's not my fault you couldn't pick up Parseltongue." Harry replied.

Draco ignored him and crouched down to peer through the narrow opening, while Harry remained standing. They could see the back of Lord Voldemort's chair and a large swarm of black robed men facing them. Harry felt a little queasy. He was spying on his father during a Death Eater meeting. If he was caught...

But Harry forced himself to relax. He was fairly certain he couldn't be seen. What was an opening on this end of the wall was actually a large portrait of serpents on the other. His father's chamber had countless portraits surrounding it, most of them had depicted serpents in one form or another. With the portrait only open a mere sliver, Harry was sure no one would pick up on it. At least, he hoped so anyway.

"Has it started yet?" Draco whispered.

"I can't see." Harry replied, his father's chair was blocking part of his vision.

Today was the initiation of a new Death Eater. The boys had heard Bella and Lucius talking about it yesterday. Of course, the more Harry asked about it, the less Bella told him, finishing with a '_you'll know more when you need to._' So, Harry and Draco decided they needed to know about it, _all of it_.

The chamber was dark, as always, with torches burning in their wall sockets, throwing a flickering glow across the room. Harry couldn't see him, but he could feel his father's near presence. Particularly in his scar. He figured he must be seated in his high backed, overbearing chair. Harry hated that thing. He had told his father on numerous occasions, how much of an overkill it was.

The gentle murmur in the chamber died down immediately when a figure rose to his feet from the chair. Harry's breath hitched in his chest when he saw how forbidding and menacing his father looked, in his black-as-night robes with his wand held in one hand. He caught a fleeting glance of the side of his father's face as he turned his head to glance across the hall, undoubtedly driving cold fear into the hearts of all his men. The expression on his father's face was one Harry had never seen before. So deeply cruel and viciously arrogant that it raised goosebumps on Harry's flesh.

His father radiated fear; a cold, brutally despairing aura that sucked into Harry's lungs and stole his very breath. He shivered, suddenly not so sure about witnessing anything that went on in his father's chamber. But like a magnet, he stayed next to the opening, held there by the invisible force of curiosity.

"Come forward."

Harry almost stepped out, believing for a nanosecond, his father was speaking to him. But the tone was all wrong. His father commanded him, all the time in fact, but it was never this cold.

A figure stepped out from the sea of black robed individuals, trembling, head lowered, hood drawn. He came to kneel in front of Voldemort.

"This is it." Draco's excited whisper echoed.

Harry wanted to tell him to shut up, but he couldn't find it in him to speak.

"You wish to join me?" Lord Voldemort's cold voice rang around the chamber.

The kneeling figure nodded.

"You speak, when you answer me," Voldemort said, "if I wanted you to act like a mute, I'd have removed your tongue."

The figure at his feet trembled harder.

"Y-yes Master, I w-wish to serve you."

Harry and Draco watched as Voldemort's wand slowly lifted. The tip buried under the hood and with a flick of the wrist, the hood fell away. Harry strained to see who the man was, but all he could make out, was the blond head, bowed and still. Voldemort's wand trailed down the kneeling man's face until it tucked under his chin. The face tilted upwards at the prompt of the wand. Harry saw a pale and sweaty face of a young man, with terrified brown eyes, staring up at Lord Voldemort.

Harry knew that was a mistake.

"You know who I am?" Voldemort's cold voice asked.

The man spoke, his voice hoarse against the threat of Voldemort's wand, still held against his throat.

"Yes, Master."

"And yet, you dare to look me in the eyes and speak?"

The man quickly lowered his gaze, but it was too late.

"I do not believe you have what it takes to be a Death Eater," Voldemort pulled his wand away, releasing the man so he could bow his head once more. "The men that serve me have to know their place."

"My Lord," the man shivered, "I belong at your feet. Please, give me a chance to serve you. You will not be disappointed."

There was perfect silence at the end of his words. Harry and Draco barely breathed, watching as Lord Voldemort turned to walk to the side, his red gaze scanning the sea of men standing with bowed heads. Harry saw the smirk curve his father's lips. It brought a shudder to him.

"Macnair, Nott," Voldemort nodded at the two men. They bowed deeply before him and disappeared in the crowd. Voldemort looked back at the man kneeling before him, "you have to prove your worth to gain a place at my feet." he told him. "You are fortunate that I am a patient Lord. I will give you a chance to prove yourself."

The man nodded vigorously.

"Thank you, my Lord, thank you, thank you."

Harry and Draco watched as a parting formed in the assembled crowd of black robed men. A figure, doubled over in blood stained clothes, was carried forward by Macnair and Nott.

"Merlin." Draco breathed.

Harry watched, not saying a word. There was a funny ringing in his ears, his heart thudded furiously in his chest as he stared at the whimpering figure. There was blood...everywhere. The man's face, hair, hands, everything was stained red. But it was the way he was moaning, in such pain and agony, that turned Harry's stomach.

Macnair and Nott dropped the man in front of the Death-Eater-to-be and stepped away, hands folded and heads bowed. Voldemort smiled and stepped towards the bloodied man.

"Do you know who this is?" he asked the new recruit.

The man shook his head.

"No, Master."

"This," Voldemort pointed with his wand, "is one of my Death Eaters. A very capable wizard, or was up until yesterday, when he failed me." he looked up to meet the kneeling man's gaze. "Those that fail me, I have no use for. It does not matter what you have done in the past, how many victories you bring me. If you fail me, even once, you will be cast aside."

The tortured man whimpered again, his face bloodied past the point of any distinguishing characteristics. His hands flailed around until they came in contact with the hem of Voldemort's robes and he clutched at them. The sound that left him was more of a grunt than anything else. But Harry heard one word that he understood, and it chilled his very blood.

"_Mercy!_"

Voldemort smirked at him.

"There's no such thing," he whispered in response and stepped away, pulling his robes out of the man's hands. He looked up to meet the brown-eyed gaze of the new recruit. "You want to prove yourself?" he asked. His gaze dropped to the figure. "Kill him."

Harry heard Draco's gasp but was too afraid to allow himself the same reaction. He was terrified if he opened his mouth, he might be sick. Transfixed in nothing but absolute horror, the two nine year old boys watched as the kneeling man stood up and pulled out his wand.

"No, no, don't do it!" Draco urged in a shocked whisper.

The man pointed his wand at the bloodied Death Eater. The victim moaned loudly, his grunts and groans begging for mercy. But the man was here to prove himself. He didn't hesitate.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The flash of green was not seen by Harry, only sensed, for he had turned away, pulling Draco back with him. He didn't want to see a man murdered and he knew, Draco didn't want that either. But the dull thud and the rumbustious cheer that went through the room confirmed the new recruit had done the deed.

"_Close!_" Harry hissed and the opening slid shut soundlessly, throwing the boys into darkness once again.

xxx

When the two boys climbed out of the passageway, both were pale and somewhat shaky. Draco looked like he was about to be sick. Harry felt just the same. They sneaked their way back to Harry's part of the manor, slowly making their way to Harry's room.

They didn't say anything, didn't speak a word. They sat in Harry's room and stared, at anything but each other. It was almost half an hour later, when Draco finally broke the silence.

"That was...that was horrible."

Harry nodded.

"Very horrible."

"I don't understand," Draco shook his head. "Why did the Dark Lord have that Death Eater killed?"

"Didn't you hear him?" Harry asked, his stomach tightened at the memory, "he said the man had failed him."

"You mean he failed a mission?" Draco asked.

Harry shrugged.

"Must've." he mumbled.

Draco fell quiet.

"Harry?"

"Hmm"

"I think...I don't want to become a Death Eater."

Harry looked up at him.

"Good idea, I don't think you should become one either."

"But this can't be a normal Death Eater initiation," Draco said, shaking his head, "I mean, if a Death Eater is killed every time a new Death Eater is recruited, then master would have the same number of Death Eaters, no matter how many join him."

Harry nodded.

"Yeah, exactly," he willed his heart to slow down it's frantic pace, "this isn't a normal initiation. My father wouldn't do this unless it was necessary," the knot in the pit of his stomach loosened a little, "and we don't know what that other Death Eater had done. I mean, maybe he had really messed up, cost father a lot and that's why he was in that...that state." he licked his lips, wilfully pushing away the memory of how bloodied the man was, how anguished his cries were, "father punished him so severely because...because he had to, you know, it's...it's part of his job to make sure no one messes up."

Draco nodded.

"Yeah...yeah exactly." he agreed, "the man probably deserved it."

Harry shifted in his seat. Deep down, he knew, no one deserved a fate like that. It unsettled him, more than he wanted to admit, that his father had been the one to command that man's torture and how easily he had ordered the man's execution. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed it.

"I think from now on, we should stick to spying on Death Eaters, not on the Dark Lord." Draco said.

Harry nodded.

"Yeah," he replied quietly, "agreed."

xxx

_My Best Friend; The Dark Prince_

It was the coldest winter Harry could remember. The snow outside was at least ten inches thick, the air crisp and terribly cold. It was so cold in fact that Harry had been banned from from going outside to train in his grounds. Instead, Voldemort had transfigured a large potion of the manor into an indoor training centre. Harry was pleased and had spent almost every waking minute in there, but it still didn't compare to working outside in the open air.

He trudged his way to his room, his hair wet from the indoor showers newly fitted in his training centre. He brushed the dark locks away from his eyes, cursing at his stupid stubborn hair that refused to sit neatly. It was part of his curse, the curse of being a _Potter_. He shook his head, refusing to let himself get sucked into self misery again. He had enough of that every time he looked in the mirror and day by day, he saw more and more of James Potter in himself.

He growled, fists clenching into tight balls. Why wouldn't his father just let him apply a glamour? The one he had fashioned for himself last month was perfect. He looked just like a young version of his father. Which was rightly so, as Harry had worked endlessly to perfect the glamour so it resembled the photo of Tom Riddle in his Hogwarts days. But of course, as always, his father told him plainly, _'no'_ and Harry had to revert back to his true face.

With a frustrated kick, he slammed open his door, storming into his room.

"Whoa!" came a familiar drawl, "where's the fire?"

Harry came to a sudden stop. His narrowed eyes widened, all anger and annoyance melted away.

"Draco?"

The blond boy smiled, sitting casually on Harry's sofa.

"About bloody time, Harry," he stood up, "I've been waiting ages."

"When did you get back?" Harry asked hurrying to his friend.

"Two days ago," Draco replied, "Hogwarts breaks for Christmas for a fortnight."

Harry grinned. It had been four months since he had seen his best friend. The pair of eleven year olds sat down across from each other.

"So," Harry prompted, "what's it like then?"

"Hogwarts?" Draco asked, with a perfect brow arched.

"No, the food," Harry rolled his eyes, "of course Hogwarts! What's it like? Is it what everyone says it is?"

Draco grinned.

"It's more," he answered.

"Really?" Harry was impressed. It was nearly impossible to get any positive remarks about anything out of the Malfoys.

"It's pretty magnificent," Draco admitted, "the castle is...huge, I mean so big I doubt seven years is long enough to see all of it."

Harry's eyes widened.

"Yeah?"

"Once we got off the train, we had to take a boat ride across this lake, to get to the school," Draco started from the beginning, "then we all had to go into the Great Hall. It's okay, about the size of our banquet room," Draco's eyes gleamed, "but the roof is pretty cool. It's charmed to mimic the sky outside. Anyway, then there's the sorting hat. Barmy old thing, but it knows what's it's doing. Barely touched my head and it screamed Slytherin." Draco held up his head, pride radiating from him.

"Yeah, Lucius told me." Harry said quietly.

"The dorms are the best part. Ours is in the dungeons, and from what I hear, the Slytherins have the best common room." Draco continued. "Oh, but the best part, our Head of House is Severus Snape."

Harry was surprised.

"Really?"

"Yeah, and he's a real snarky git to everyone, except Slytherins."

Harry's brow furrowed.

"He could make an effort to keep his cover."

Draco chuckled.

"He doesn't hide his preferences. He openly favours his own house. He's taken away most of Gryffindor's points, it's hilarious."

"Points?" Harry asked.

"It's this competition. Throughout the year, every house has to accumulate house points, by answering questions in class and what not. The house with the most points at the end of the year, wins the House Cup."

Harry smirked.

"House Cup? What you all get together and drink from it?"

"No, it's not a drinking..." Draco realised Harry was mocking him. He narrowed his eyes at him, "funny, Harry."

Harry chuckled.

"So, what else?" he asked.

"Classes are okay, could be better." Draco mused, "then there's the Quidditch matches." his pale face was glowing. "Slytherins have the _best_ team! We've won the cup, _Quidditch trophy cup_ smart-ass," he added at Harry's smirk, "every year for almost a decade."

"Did you play?" Harry asked.

"No, first years aren't allowed on the team. Stupid rule, but then again, there's lot's of stupid things about Hogwarts too."

"Like?"

"Like all the mudbloods in school." Draco pulled a face. "It's disgusting, we have to eat in the same hall as them, filthy little things! Thank Merlin, Slytherins don't have any dirty blood tainting it." he looked over at Harry, just a glance through lowered eyes. "It would have been cool to have you there too," he said quietly, "can you just imagine; Slytherin's heir sorted into Slytherin with me. I can't even tell the rest of the Slytherins that I know you." his shoulders slumped a little, "I wish you came to Hogwarts."

Deep down, Harry wished that too. But he wasn't destined to go to Hogwarts. The school was for normal children. He wasn't even a child anymore.

"What about the _Headmaster?_" Harry asked, changing the topic, "what's he like?"

Draco paused.

"Honestly, he's a bit of a bumbling idiot." he said.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Really?"

"He talks a load of nonsense." Draco said, "makes up random words and tries to be funny," he shook his head, "but he's really not."

"Sounds like he keeps up a charade of being an idiot, so no one knows how smart he really is." Harry said.

Draco shrugged.

"Who cares about Dumbledore," he leaned back, smirking, "I'd rather talk about the _Dark Prince_."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Tell your father to quit it!" he said, "that nickname's doing my head in."

Draco chuckled.

"He's really proud of himself for coming up with it," he said, "I heard him talking to mother. He was going on about how you really are a Prince of sorts, since you're the Dark Lord's heir and all." he smirked at Harry's obvious annoyance, "he also said that the Dark Lord likes the nickname."

"Of course he likes it," Harry said, "it fits right in with his conceited point of view."

"Well, get used to it. I don't see father letting go of this name anytime soon." Draco warned.

"He's got Bella doing it too." Harry grouched, "she called me that all day yesterday, just to annoy me."

Draco smirked.

"Let's just hope the name doesn't stick."

xxx

_A Good Friend Does Not Tattle_

Draco knocked once at the doors of his best friend's room. They opened at his touch and he let himself in.

"Harry?" he called.

"Give me a sec!" Harry called from behind the closed en suite door.

Draco could hear the shower still running.

"A sec, yeah right!" he scoffed.

He glanced around the impressive room, looking for something to entertain him until Harry finished his shower, which seeing as it was Harry, could take an hour. He scanned the books on the shelf, but he had read most of the titles already. He turned, scanning over the desk, ignoring the usual crap his friend accumulated. But something caught his eye. Draco turned back to stare at the black penesive, sitting proudly on top of the desk, a mass of silvery white substance floated and swirled inside.

The thirteen year old walked closer, his heart jolting. He had always been curious about Harry's penesive. He had seen it once, when he walked in unannounced, to catch a glimpse of the penesive transforming into the black and silver ring that always adorned Harry's finger. But Harry was so damn secretive about the thing, no matter how much Draco pushed and prodded, he wouldn't tell him what was held in there.

Of course, Draco knew part of it. He didn't need to be told that Harry held memories of his abuse in there. And despite his initial curiosity, Draco had no desire to see his friend's treatment at the hands of his biological parents. But Draco had an inkling that Harry held more than his trauma in that penesive and Harry possessiveness over the ring-penesive only added fuel to that suspicious fire.

Draco looked over his shoulder at the en suite door. The shower was still running. Harry wouldn't be coming out anytime soon, probably. He turned back around at the stone bowl. A quick peek couldn't hurt, right?

With a grin, Draco stepped forward and leaned down, falling head first into the penesive. Right smack in the middle of the last memory stored, which had a large screaming crowd, a square cage and a much older looking Harry, facing a muggle opponent.

xxx

Draco must have watched barely half of the muggle fist fight, before he was viciously hurled upwards. He fell back with a thud, landing on Harry's floor. Dazed, he looked up and saw his thirteen year old best friend, looking absolutely furious.

"What the hell, Draco?" Harry snapped. "What were you doing in there?"

"Me?" Draco hurried to his feet, "what the hell were _you_ doing _there_?" he snapped, "a muggle fight club? You were in a _muggle fight club?_"

Harry's face coloured. His hair, still wet from his shower, fell into his narrowed eyes.

"It's none of your business!" he hissed.

"Why would you go to a place like that? Have you completely lost your mind?" Draco asked.

"What the hell were you doing looking through my things in the first place?" Harry asked.

"I didn't know I was going to find something like _that_ in there!" Draco pointed at the black pensive. His eyes widened, the lines on his brow faded. "That's where you've been going at nights, haven't you?" Draco asked. "You go to muggle fight clubs and duel with muggles. You're learning their way of duelling!"

Harry looked away and moved towards his pensive.

"You have to stop snooping around my things, Draco. You never know, one of these days, you might push me too far."

"You're not answering my question!" Draco ignored the threat. He got one every so often but knew Harry didn't mean it, "you sneak off at nights to duel _muggles!_ Why?"

"Because I want to and because I can, okay?" Harry snapped.

Draco quietened a moment, before he shook his head.

"You do realise what the Dark Lord will do to you, once he finds out you're meeting filthy muggles behind his back, don't you?" he asked, terrified. "Do you _want_ to die a horrible and slow death? because that's what will happen to you."

"It's none of your concern," Harry brushed him away, "what my father will or won't do, is for me to worry about, not you."

"It's just as well!" Draco said, "I'm glad, I'm not a part of this," he waved a hand irritatedly at the penesive. "But you better have a damn good reason to offer to the Dark Lord."

"I do," Harry replied.

"Really?" Draco asked with narrowed eyes, "why don't you enlighten me? What possible purpose could you have for sneaking out at night and duelling with muggles?"

Harry eyed Draco for a moment. A strained silence stretched between them.

"You remember that incident with Nott?" Harry asked quietly.

Draco's brow furrowed.

"You mean when he attacked you when you were seven?" he asked.

Harry nodded.

"Ever since that incident, I've had this niggling fear in the back of my mind. I was completely defenceless against Nott. Without my wand, I'm nothing." Harry said, and Draco could hear the raw fear in his voice. "My power is only there when I have my wand. I can't protect myself without it. Even with wandless magic, there's only so many spells that can be performed. So it got me thinking; if I could learn physical combat then I would be powerful with or without my wand. If it came to it, I would be able to defend myself without a wand. And since no other wizard has bothered to learn physical combat, I would have an advantage over them. The only reason I haven't said anything to father is because I know he would object and he would fear for my safety. You remember what I told you about what those muggles did to him when he was in that orphanage?"

An involuntary shudder went through Draco. The stories that he had heard about Lord Voldemort and those awful muggles torturing him. It was unbelievable and gut wrenching. He had flat out begged Harry not to tell him anymore.

Harry continued, taking Draco's silence as his conformation.

"Once I learn all aspects of physical combat completely, I plan on showing father my new skills. I'll confess everything. He'll be mad at first, but afterwards, when he sees how powerful I've become, I think he'll be pleased."

Draco shook his head at Harry.

"You're just as obsessed with power as my dad."

He meant it as a joke, but it made Harry's expression darken.

"Power is everything, Draco." he said, quietly, "without power, I was nothing. I was treated worse than an animal because I was helpless." a faint quiver ran through Harry. "Father gave me my power and I want it to grow. I want to use my power to better myself. I never want to be defenceless again."

"Yeah, okay, that's all fine…but… I don't know, _muggles?_" Draco said, with a disgusted look. "You couldn't learn how to fight like...I don't know, dragons?"

Harry smiled.

"I know, it's really horrible, but they do have some really good fighting techniques." he defended. "They are filthy creatures though, not as bad as mudbloods. You should be a pure blood wizard or a pure blood muggle. This whole mixed blood thing is just disgusting!"

"Ditto," Draco breathed.

"Anyway, now that I've told you, you need to promise me one thing." Harry said, as he turned towards the penesive, changing it back to it's disguise as a ring with a wave of his hand.

"I know, I know, don't tell anyone, right?" Draco mumbled.

"Actually, I was going to say, don't try and remember," Harry turned around, wand in hand and pointed at his friend. "Obliviate."

Draco didn't get the chance to react. The curse hit him straight in the chest. Draco looked stunned, before blinking a few times.

"Um, Harry, what…what was I saying?"

Harry smiled and walked over to his best friend, all the while slipping on his ring.

"You were telling me about your Quidditch game before Christmas break." Harry said as he led Draco towards the sofa.

xxx

It was almost a week later, when Draco came to spend the day with Harry. The hours rushed by and before the pair of thirteen year olds realised it, Lucius had arrived to assist Draco back home.

"But I've still to show Draco my new dagger set." Harry whined.

"He was going to show me how to throw them." Draco joined in.

"You'll have to wait to see the Dark Prince in action, another day," Lucius smiled.

Bella trailed into the room, after Lucius.

"It's time you went home, Draco," she too insisted, "Harry's got a training session before dinner."

"Why can't I stay for the training session?" Draco pleaded, "come on, father, please? I can be Harry's duelling partner."

Harry scoffed.

"Yeah, right."

Draco turned to look at him.

"Why not? I'm a pretty good dueller." Draco protested.

"You might be," Harry grinned, "but there's no way you could _stand_ let alone duel with me."

Draco's indignation was heightened by the fact that both his father and aunt were quietly snickering at his expense.

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly Merlin re-incarnated!" he shot back.

"I never said I was." Harry said coolly, "but I'm pretty much the best damn thing since him." he teased.

"You're not perfect, Harry," Draco said, then turning to face his father, he said, "that tree that got blasted down last week, that was Harry's _'Confringo'_ when it missed it's target."

"Hey!" Harry's smile quickly vanished, replaced by a frown, "what're you doing?"

Draco smirked at him, then turned to face Bella.

"And that _'Ripple' _curse you're so proud of? Harry still can't get it to work!"

"Draco?" Harry was shocked. His eyes flashed and he turned to Lucius. "That dent in your wall, far side to the left of the parlour, that wasn't the House-elves, it was Draco's lame _'Impediment Jinx'_ gone awry."

Lucius turned to look at his son in astonishment, who was quickly turning pink with anger.

"Yeah, well, that singe mark on the carpet at the entrance wasn't the Death Eaters, it was Harry's failed '_Incendio' _aunt Bella." Draco revealed.

"That was your fault, you distracted me when I was trying to conjure fireballs, wandlessly!" Harry said. He turned to Lucius, "Draco's the one who botched up the Deflating Draught and blew a hole in your worktop!"

"That was four years ago!" Draco cried, "Harry's the one who stole Felix Felicis from Master's potion cupboard."

"Six years ago!" Harry yelled, "and only because you roped me into it!"

"Boys-" Bella tried but the two teens were lost in their tattle tales.

"Draco broke the table in your dining room!"

"Harry lost his wand for almost three days, before I helped him find it!"

"Draco can't do the _'Switching Spell' _he keeps messing it up!"

"That was two years ago! I can do it now!" Draco spat. "It wasn't the lower rank Death Eaters who broke that window, it was Harry."

"Draco's the one who uses _'Petrificus Totalus' _on your house elves to make them miss their chores."

"Harry goes out at night to fight muggles!"

Harry's mouth dropped open and he stared at Draco with both shock and surprise. Lucius and Bella, turned to Harry, speechless, eyes wide and unblinking. They were obviously waiting for Harry to deny the horrendous accusation, but the only thing Harry could do was open and close his mouth in shocked stupor. Finally, he found his voice.

"How did you know that!" he shouted.

"Oh please," Draco scoffed, "you think you're so gifted? You messed up that _'Obliviate'_ royally. I remember everything I saw in your penesive." he pointed a finger at Harry, "that's where he goes at night, aunt Bella. He goes to dirty fight clubs and duels with muggles! Then he hides the memory in his penesive."

Harry's hand reflexively went to his ring and he covered it, hiding it from view. He met Bella's horrified and somewhat shocked gaze.

"Bella, it's not-"

That's when he felt the burn in his scar.

He wheeled around, his heart somersaulted in his chest at the sight of his father, standing at the door. Harry swallowed, his mouth bone dry all of a sudden, at the look glinting in his father's ruby red eyes.

The room hushed to silence. Lucius and Bella dropped to their knees at once. Draco followed suit, but only once the shock of his sudden appearance wore off a little. But Lord Voldemort had eyes only for his son, who was nervously standing before him.

"Father, I-"

That's all Harry could get out, before his father turned and walked away.

xxx

Harry was in trouble. He was in _big_ trouble. He was left alone in his room, with only his aching scar for company. Harry paced the length of his room, his mind coming up with all sorts of excuses, long detailed explanations he could present to his father. He raked a hand through his hair. He was in it deep now. No matter what he said, his father was going to hit the roof.

A knock on his door halted Harry mid pace. The door clicked open and Draco peeked his head in. Harry narrowed his eyes at him.

"What'd you want?" Harry growled, "there's no one here but me. Go find my father to tattle some more."

Draco walked in with narrowed grey eyes.

"I wouldn't get so bent out of shape, if I were you," he said, "you started this."

"Me?" Harry turned to him, "you're the one who started telling on me!"

"Yeah, cause you were acting like God's gift to the universe."

"You know me," Harry said, "you know I don't mean it, I was only trying to annoy you."

"Job well done." Draco said.

Harry shook his head.

"Why didn't you tell me the Obliviate didn't work?"

Draco gave him a look.

"Oh, yeah, that sounds like a smart move. Hey, Harry, your Obliviate curse didn't work. Why don't you try it again." he scowled at Harry, "what do you think I am; a complete idiot?"

"You aren't smart, that's for sure," Harry said, "otherwise you wouldn't have told anyone what you saw." he rubbed a hand down his face. His scar smarted with pain, "damn it, Draco! Why did you have to tell everyone about the fight club. We're best friends, best friends don't snitch on each other!"

"Yeah, and best friends don't _Obliviate_ each other either." Draco said. Harry fell quiet. Draco shook his head, grey eyes fixed on him. "You know, all you had to do, was say once to me to keep your secret and I would have." he told him quietly. "But you tried to Obliviate me. Best friends don't do that."

Harry didn't say anything, but his face coloured in shame. Wearily, he walked across to his sofa and sat down.

"I don't know what I should do," Harry confessed, "he's really mad." he rubbed at his head.

Draco came and sat down next to him.

"Don't worry about it," he said, "I mean, this is you. Master will get mad, shout at you a little and then, that's it. Heaven forbid this was any of us, our heads would be chopped off and used to decorate the outside walls."

Harry grimaced, more at the pain generating from his scar than Draco's dreary imagery.

"I don't know about that," he said, "judging from how bad the pain is, I reckon he wants me beheaded." he squeezed his eyes shut, fingers digging into his scar but he couldn't take any of the pain away.

"Swear that you'll never Obliviate me again," Draco said quietly, "and I swear, I'll never tell on you again."

Harry, despite the pain he was in, smiled.

"No more Obliviate curses for you." he promised.

"No more tattling on you." Draco replied.

A sharp knock on the door before it opened. Bella walked in, her expression cold, disappointment evident in her heavy lidded eyes.

"Master would like to speak with you." she said to Harry.

Felling like there was a lead weight in his stomach, Harry got to his feet and went to see his father.

xxx

His father was sitting in his high backed chair when Harry entered his chamber. Harry closed the door behind him with a soft click. Voldemort looked up, his gaze no less sharp than it was the last time Harry saw him. With a deep breath, Harry walked closer, hating how his footsteps echoed in the silent chamber. He came to stand before him, hands clasped behind him but head held high. He met the quiet angry gaze and tried to keep his face as neutral as possible, even though his scar was burning furiously. He couldn't hold his silence for very long.

"Father, I know you're upset-"

He stopped when his father lifted a hand to quieten him.

"Spare me the explanations."

Harry winced, the tone was hard and unforgiving. He had really pissed his father off. Obediently he kept quiet. Lord Voldemort's blazing gaze scanned Harry.

"How long?" he asked, "how long have you been sneaking out to meet muggles?"

Harry didn't hesitate. Lying wasn't even an option for Harry, not with his father.

"Three years."

Voldemort didn't say anything. He held Harry's gaze before looking away. Harry's scar gave another, deeper twang of pain.

"You've not to go again," Voldemort said, his voice quiet but laced with anger, "this stops today."

Harry nodded. His scar felt like it was on fire. He was sorely tempted to reach up and rub at it, but he knew if he brought attention to it, his father would get even more upset. He always told Harry he hated the pain he unintentionally brought to him with his anger. Harry had already upset his father once today, he didn't want to make it worse, so he kept his hands firmly behind him, balled into fists.

"You can go."

The dismissal was cold and it hurt. Voldemort used that tone with his Death Eaters, but not with him. Harry turned and took two steps but then stopped. He turned back around, seeing the surprise on his father's face.

"If I may?" Harry asked. "I would like to say something."

Voldemort took a moment but nodded, red eyed narrowed at him.

"You must know, father, my intentions were not to anger you." Voldemort remained silent, "I know you don't want any explanations, but I have to say something, it's important."

Again Voldemort nodded.

"I sneaked out to go to the muggle world. I sought out fight clubs and duelled with muggles," Harry stepped forward, "but I didn't do any of it, without a purpose." He swallowed, pushing himself to say what he needed. "For the first four years of my life, all I knew was pain and fear. I was nothing more than a punching bag, and the reason was simple; I was vulnerable. I knew no way to defend myself." he looked up to meet his father's gaze, feeling the burn in his scar lessen a notch. "Seven years ago, when Nott attacked me, it drove home a horrible truth; I was still vulnerable. Without my wand, I was defenceless." Harry shook his head. "I don't want to be vulnerable, father. I can't be defenceless. I can't deal with it." he took another tentative step forward, "I wanted to learn how to duel the muggle way, so that if at any time, I'm without my wand, I'll still have a way to defend myself. It's a backup strategy, father and a good one. No one would expect a wizard to know physical combat." with a small, half smile, Harry continued, "and you always said, the element of surprise can sometimes win the battle."

Voldemort didn't say anything, but Harry could feel the pain in his scar lessen further. He met his father's ruby gaze.

"I was going to tell you everything, myself. I swear it, father. I was only waiting until my skills in physical combat excelled to an appropriate level, before I showed you-ah!" he barely held back the hiss as his scar blazed again, burning with ferocity. He took in several breaths, panting the pain away. He looked up at his father to see his quiet but angry eyes.

"If you don't want me to learn muggle duelling, I swear, father, I won't ever go to the fight clubs again." Harry said, "I did what I thought would help make me stronger. But if you don't approve, I won't do it. I would rather die than disappoint you and you know that."

Voldemort still didn't say a word. He stared at Harry for a full minute before he got to his feet.

"Father-"

Harry tried one last time, but his father walked past him, ignoring him perfectly. Harry closed his eyes in defeat, his shoulders slumped.

"Tomorrow morning," Voldemort spoke, next to the doors, "seven sharp. You will show me this _backup strategy_ of yours."

Harry turned around, green eyes lit with happiness.

"Yes, father." he replied.

Voldemort was still annoyed, his expression and the smarting pain in Harry's scar told him that.

"I will decide after your presentation, whether you can continue with this horrid hobby or not."

Harry nodded again.

Voldemort eyed him one last time.

"Go, rest," he turned to walk out, "and take a full vial of pain relief."

The door clicked closed behind him.

xxx

The next morning, seven o'clock sharp, Harry was in his father's chamber again, but this time he wasn't alone. Lucius, Draco, Bella, Nott and Macnair were also with him. Lord Voldemort was once again, sitting on his chair. He scanned the six in front of him.

"Five opponents enough?" he asked his son.

Harry grinned and gave a shrug.

"I can handle more."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

"Let's see how you fare against four of my best," his gaze rested on Draco, "and a mediocre wizard."

Draco flinched but bowed in thanks, as if Voldemort had paid him a compliment. He met Harry's eye who smirked and winked at him.

"Here are the rules," Voldemort started, "you five will attack him with your wands," he spoke to the Death Eaters and Draco, "all goes, including the Imperius."

Harry knew that was standard. He had trained with all three Unforgivables, but the only Unforgivable Voldemort allowed others to use on him was the Imperius. And that was only because Harry could throw it off. The only one permitted to use the Killing curse and the Cruciatus curse anywhere near Harry, was Voldemort himself. He had told Harry the reason was simple; he was the only one he trusted to hit Harry with those curses and not mean them.

"Harry won't have use of his wand or his magic." Voldemort held up Harry's wand. "The duel will end with either Harry defeating _all five_, or with Harry defeated."

Harry grunted in amusement.

"Like that could ever happen." he muttered.

Draco threw him a glare.

"Easy there, _Merlin_, this is what got you in this mess." he whispered.

Voldemort held up his own wand and gave it a slight flick. Green sparks flew out.

"Begin."

Harry found himself surrounded by the five. They circled him and as one, they shot out their curses. Harry found five lots of spells coming straight at him. Usually, Harry would flick his wrist and his blue, head to foot shield would cover him. But since he wasn't allowed his magic or his wand, he had to resort to alternative methods. He dove to the floor, missing the flashes of spells. He rolled towards his first target; Nott.

Still on the floor, Harry kicked out, his foot caught the Death Eater in the Solar Plexus and doubled him over. Harry leapt to his feet and in one swift move, he had taken shelter behind the wheezing Nott, safe from the other four's curses. It was only for a moment though. A well aimed kick in the side and Nott was down. Harry had to throw himself out of the way again as Macnair, Bella, Lucius and Draco took aim, throwing everything from '_Stupefy_' to '_Imperio_' at him. Harry ducked and dived, until he reached his second target; Macnair. Harry's kick knocked the wand clean out of his hand but Macnair wasn't to be defeated so easily. He aimed a punch at Harry, but it was clumsy and easily caught in Harry's hand. With a twist in the wrong way, Macnair's wrist was broken. The man screamed in pain and surprise, giving Harry the opportunity to deliver another punch to the man's face, knocking him out. Lucius' _Imperius_ caught Harry quite suddenly and halted him.

"_Stop!" c_ame the command.

"_No!"_ Harry pushed and broke out of the Unforgivable.

It took no more than ten seconds, but even that, was a little too late. Bella took the opportunity at Harry's brief pause and hit him with her blasting hex. Harry flew to the other end of the chamber, hitting the ground with a thud. Dazed, Harry got to his feet. Bella smirked at him, twirling her wand.

"You going to hit me, Harry?" she teased, "a women? Tut-tut."

Harry smirked at her.

"Who you callin' a women?" he teased right back.

Bella giggled but sent her own Imperius at him. This one, Harry side stepped and darted straight for her. He changed route halfway, easily avoiding the curses from both Malfoys. Harry used his momentum to dart a few steps up the wall and kicked out, flipping outwards. His foot connected with Lucius' chest and he was thrown backwards, smacking against the wall. Harry landed but had to duck almost instantly to avoid Draco's spell. A simple punch and Draco was, almost relieved to be, out for the count. That left only Harry and Bella.

Bella paused, then sent a body bind at him. Harry ducked and dived, weaving his way past her spells to get to her. His hand closed around her throat, the other around her wand holding wrist. A small twist and Bella gasped, dropping her wand. Harry kicked her legs out from under her and she fell with an undignified thump.

"Stay down." he instructed.

Harry straightened up, smirking as he met his father's gaze. He held out both arms, gesturing to the five sprawled out forms.

"I win." he declared.

Voldemort smirked.

"Not quite."

An invisible force suddenly hit Harry and he was thrown off his feet. He landed on the hard floor, knocking the breath out of him. A spasm of pain went through his back and Harry groaned.

The next thing he knew, he was staring at his father's smirking face.

"Wandless magic." he stated, "it trumps wands and your _backup strategy,_" he straightened up, "your physical defence may help you when faced with wands but it does nothing to the attacks you can't see or hear coming. Wandless magic can still get the better of you." His eyes sharpened a fraction. "Indulge in foolish hobbies if you like, but remember; Magic is Might. Never forget that."

Harry groaned.

"Yes sir."

Voldemort leaned down, took a hold of Harry's collars and hoisted the thirteen year old back on his feet.

"Now that you've learned your lesson, you can retire to your room."

Harry nodded, wincing as his back protested.

"And one last thing," he closed the gap between them and fixed Harry's upturned collar. "Never, keep anything a secret from me again, understood?"

Harry felt the warning twinge in his scar too. He nodded.

"Understood, father."

"Good," Voldemort smiled, "you can continue your physical training. I can see you need more work."

Harry, despite his aching back, smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, father."

"I can't see how this, scrambling around like a rat, helps but if you feel more confident having this skill set, then that's fine with me."

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled nevertheless.

"Thank you."

Voldemort clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder and stepped away, wand drawn to wake up the unconscious men on his floor.

xxx

_Friends Forever_

"You can't be serious!" Draco asked with wide grey eyes.

Harry shrugged.

"You know I am."

Draco shook his head.

"You honestly think you can do that? Live out the rest of your life, hiding from the Dark Lord, the Ministry and the damn Order?" he glared at him. "You're barking mad."

"I don't have much choice, do I?" Harry asked.

Draco stared at him.

"You do, you have a choice. Keep on living like this; sleeping in dingy motel rooms, surviving on minimal food and this constant chase to stay alive," he paused, "or come with me."

Harry shook his head, sitting on the edge of the small bed, he leaned forward to rest his head in his hands.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Harry looked up at him.

"Because I can't guarantee that nothing will come chasing after me." Harry got up, moving to the small window. "Now that all of Voldemort's Horcruxes are gone, he's going to be hunting me down more furiously than ever." he closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh. "I can't have you caught up in this too, Draco."

"I'm already a part of this." Draco replied, "remember my father? He's still a Death Eater and he's itching to get mother and me back, ever since we left him."

Harry turned back to look at him.

"Maybe it's not what you think."

Draco let out a dry laugh.

"Oh trust me, Harry. I know what he's after and it isn't a family reunion." he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, "father would rather have me and mother buried six feet under than away from him. Hurts his pride to much to be rejected by his wife and son."

Harry dropped his gaze, turning around to look out of the window again.

"Uncle Marco's given us a sanctuary." Draco continued behind him. "Come with me, Harry. Even if it's just for a little while, until things cool down here."

"It's a different country, Draco, not a different world." Harry said, speaking with his back turned, "Voldemort will find me, no matter where I go."

"You don't know that," Draco said, "you should keep your head down for the next few years. Hide out and wait. His Horcruxes are gone. Sooner or later, he'll be brought down. Then you can return and..." he trailed off.

Harry turned around to face Draco.

"And what?" he asked, "what, Draco? What can I do? I can't return to my family after trying to kill my dad and frame my Godfather for it. I can't face the wizarding world when I have the Kiss hanging over my head. What is it I can do?"

Draco took in a breath.

"You can start by trying to keep yourself alive."

Harry looked away, shaking his head.

"I'm not suicidal."

"By insisting on staying here, you are." Draco moved forward. "I know what you're thinking, I'm not stupid." he said, "you think if you stay here, you can see your family from afar, keep an eye on them, watch them even if you can't be with them."

Harry didn't answer.

"It's not going to work, Harry," Draco shook his head, "the only thing you'll be doing is torturing yourself, looking at what you can't have. Every time you go near the Potters, you're risking capture."

"I know." Harry said quietly.

"Then don't do it." Draco pleaded, "Mother's already left. I'm leaving too." he paused again, "come with me."

Harry turned around to face him with a half smile.

"Who'd have guessed you'd be the one offering me protection?"

Draco returned the sad smile.

"I'm not protecting anyone," he said, "but I've known you since I was six. We're friends and right now, that's what you need, a friend to haul your ass out of the fire and help you lay low for a while." he let out a breath, fixing Harry with his grey-eyed stare, "you're going to do what you want, you always have. I guess what I'm saying is; if you need me or want me, I'm here."

Harry nodded.

"I want you, Draco."

Both boys paused, twin expressions of shock on their faces. An awkward silence folded down on them.

"I think I should rephrase that." Harry said.

"Yeah, I'd be more comfortable if you did." Draco grimaced.

Harry smiled tiredly and brushed a hand through his hair. He went over to sit at the edge of tattered bed, a hand rubbing at his chin.

"Okay," he said after a full silent minute, "I'll come with you. Being away from here might actually help."

"Damn right it'll help," Draco assured. "I'm leaving tonight."

Harry jerked his head up.

"Tonight?" he shook his head, "I can't leave tonight, Draco."

"Why not?"

Harry fell quiet.

"I...I've got to say goodbye, first."

"Fine, send them a freaking postcard, but you're leaving tonight."

Harry stood up.

"I have to see Damien before I go. I can't just leave like that."

"Why the hell not?" Draco seethed.

"I need to make sure he's okay," Harry replied, "the last time I saw him, he was ambushed by Death Eaters and Aurors. I don't even know if he's in the Ministry's custody right now." he shook his head resolutely. "I'm not leaving until I make sure my brother's okay."

Draco stared at him with his jaw clenched.

"Fine," he hissed, "say your goodbyes." he turned to the door, "but after that, we're leaving Harry."

Harry nodded.

"Yeah, we're leaving."

Draco let out a deep breath, trying to calm down. He turned to look back at Harry.

"Two days," he stated, "is that enough time?"

Harry nodded.

"Plenty."

Draco nodded.

"The day after tomorrow then," he said, "we'll meet here."

"No, not here." Harry said, "I'll meet you at your place. We'll head from there."

Draco nodded.

"It'll work out, Harry. Just wait and see."

Harry smiled. He knew nothing ever worked out, not when it came to him. Something always messed up, but the hopeful words were nice to hear.

Especially from the one friend he'd always had by his side.

xxx


	5. Quidditch

**Disclaimer** I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to J K Rowling.

This is not a request. It's a scene I wanted to put into the trilogy but found no place for it. Enjoy!

**Quidditch**

Lord Voldemort sat in his private chambers, stooped over the paperwork sprawled over his desk. His current plan had inconsistencies, too many for it to be acceptable. He crossed out another block. His black quill scratching against the parchment was the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

In his engrossed state, he only noticed the sound of pounding footsteps and a familiar voice outside his door when it was too late.

"Father!" came the shout before the door smacked open, bringing a great whoosh of air that blew half the scattered parchments off his desk.

Voldemort lunged forward with both hands, managing to pin most of the paperwork to the surface. He hissed in anger, turning his head to look at the culprit, the only being that would live after storming inside his private chambers like this.

Harry stood staring at him. The eight year old's big green eyes glanced to the papers on the floor before looking up to meet the scarlet gaze.

"Oops," he grinned sheepishly, "sorry, father."

"Harry!" Voldemort hissed, "how many times do I have to tell you-?"

"Don't storm in. Knock once and then enter." Harry recited, "sorry, father. I'll remember next time."

Voldemort sighed. A wave of his hand and the parchments on the floor floated up and landed on his desk again. But no spell would put them back in order. With an irritated glower at the eight year old, Voldemort began setting them out on his desk again.

"What is it?" he asked, "why did you run in here like that?"

"Oh, yeah," a grin spread from ear to ear, one that made even the Dark Lord stop and stare, "Lucius is taking Draco to the World Cup. It's tomorrow and I really want to go. Can we go? Please? Please?"

Voldemort stared at him. The child was practically hopping on the spot, bright green eyes gleaming with excitement.

"World Cup?" he questioned.

"Yes, World Cup," Harry repeated, "Quidditch, father, the World Cup for Quidditch."

Voldemort tutted with a sardonic shake of his head.

"That nonsense," he said, "really, Harry? I thought you had better things to do than to waste your time with that rubbish." he said as he rearranged his paperwork.

"It's not rubbish," Harry insisted, "Draco says it's really cool. He's been to other games and I've never been to even one. I want to see the World Cup match, please father, can we go?"

Voldemort looked over at him and sighed at the pout the child was putting on.

"Fine, if you want to waste a perfectly good afternoon."

"Yes!" Harry laughed, jumping up and down, "I can't wait!"

"I'll inform Lucius. He'll arrange to take you with him." Voldemort picked up his quill again and continued marking the parchments, "I'll have to put a glamour on you before you leave." he mused.

"What?" Harry's smile dropped off him and he stared at his father.

"Well you can't expect to go to a Quidditch match with your silver mask in place?" Voldemort said, "and going as you are is too risky."

"No," Harry shook his head, "I wasn't talking about that." he stared at Voldemort, "I meant...you're going to ask Lucius to take me?"

"Isn't that what you asked for?" Voldemort said, "permission to go with Lucius to the match?"

"No," Harry shook his head again, "I want you to take me."

Voldemort stopped and looked around at Harry.

"Are you feeling alright, Harry?" he asked, "you're talking complete nonsense."

"I want to go with you," Harry repeated, "we can both do glamours and-"

Voldemort's chuckle cut Harry off.

"Dear Merlin," Voldemort rubbed at his eyes, "Harry I assure you, had I wanted to waste my time, I would find a thousand and one other things to do, but going to watch a _Quidditch_ match would certainly not be one of them."

Harry stared at him, clearly heartbroken at his father's straight refusal.

"Go on," Voldemort gestured to the door, "I'll speak to Lucius and arrange for you to accompany them to the match tomorrow."

He turned back to his desk and picked up his quill again. Harry waited for a moment before turning around and walking away.

xxx

It was mid-afternoon the next day when Voldemort stepped into the part of Riddle Manor that was now dedicated to Harry. He needed to get back the book he had given to Harry last month, and Voldemort couldn't wait until Harry returned from the ridiculous Quidditch match.

Voldemort had explained to Lucius to keep Draco under control. He didn't want Harry influenced by that brat. He allowed his son this time to go along and see what all the fuss was about regarding that blasted sport, but he wasn't going to tolerate any further distractions. There was so much Harry had yet to learn, he couldn't afford to take time off for silly things like _Quidditch._

Voldemort pushed open the door to Harry's room and walked in, only to stop in surprise.

"Harry?"

The eight year old looked around from his seat next to the window.

"Father." he nodded in greeting.

"What are you doing here?" Voldemort asked, "weren't you supposed to be with Lucius, at the World Cup?"

Harry continued staring out of the window, but shook his head.

"I told him I didn't want to go."

"Why?" Voldemort asked, "you were jumping for joy yesterday. What happened today?"

"Nothing happened." Harry replied quietly.

"Harry?" Voldemort stepped closer, "What's wrong?" he asked, his tone harsh and demanding.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Then why are you upset?"

"I'm not."

"I don't have time for this." Voldemort hissed.

"That's just the thing, you don't have time for me at all." Harry said, looking around at him with sharp green eyes.

Voldemort was stunned with the way the child spoke.

"What did you say?"

"You don't have time for me." Harry repeated. "I asked you for one thing; to take me to the match but you couldn't even do that."

"I told you to go with Lucius." Voldemort said.

"I don't want to go with Lucius!" Harry yelled, "I wanted to go with you!"

Voldemort stood still, watching as tears sprung into the boy's eyes. It had been a long time, almost two years since he saw Harry cry.

"Harry-"

"I get it, you don't like Quidditch," Harry interrupted, "you think it's a waste of time. Fine, maybe it is." Harry said, "but it's not the World Cup I wanted to go to, I just wanted to go somewhere with you. Draco's going to the match with his father. I wanted to go with my father." he wiped at his eyes roughly with the back of his hand, "forget it, it doesn't matter."

Voldemort watched him silently for a moment, before stepping forward.

"Get your mask," he said, "and come with me."

Harry looked up at him with surprise. He quickly got up, grabbing the silver mask from his bedside table and hurried after his father. Voldemort led Harry out of the manor, until they reached the edge of the anti-apparation wards. He took hold of Harry's hand and disapparated.

xxx

They arrived at the top of a cliff. Harry stared around him in surprise. They were alone, standing high up, looking down on acres and acres of landscape. The afternoon sun was beating down on them, getting into their eyes.

"You can take the mask off." Voldemort allowed and Harry quickly pulled the suffocating material away from his face.

"Where are we?" Harry asked.

Voldemort smiled and turned to stare out, red eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun.

"This," he breathed, "was my favourite place to come to, when I wanted to be alone." he looked around at Harry, "I was your age, perhaps a little younger when I started coming here." he walked closer to the edge and pointed a finger. "You see that?"

Harry walked over and saw a small square building in the distance, run down with shattered windows and overgrown grass surrounding it.

"Yes."

"That was the orphanage I grew up in."

Harry stared at it with an open mouth.

"That?" he pointed, "that place?"

Voldemort smirked.

"It didn't look quite like this back then," he admitted, "although, it wasn't that much better." he turned to face Harry, "when I was your age, there was so much I wanted, so much I thought I needed, but the truth is, all I ever needed was to know who I was." he looked over at his orphanage, "I didn't know I was a wizard. All I knew was that I was different. It wasn't until I was eleven that I found out what my destiny was; to be the most powerful wizard in this world."

He smiled down at Harry.

"I know there is so much you think you want, so much you think you need, but Harry, you are destined for many great things. You are my son, my right hand," he held onto Harry's shoulders, "you'll have powers that will shock this world but in order to do so, you have to work hard, train night and day."

Harry nodded.

"I know, father, and I do. I work hard."

"I know you do." Voldemort replied, "but you have to take every available moment and opportunity and use it to grow stronger. Because you know, a person with a weakness can never rise above others."

Harry nodded again.

"Yes, father."

"And as for things like Quidditch," Voldemort started, "it's a foolish hobby that only the weak-minded are interested in. It's a distraction, hours and hours spent chasing a ball, when that time can be used to train and learn how to manipulate your core."

Again, Harry nodded.

"Draco may have a father that takes him to waste time," Voldemort continued, "but you have a father that will teach you skills others can only dream off. You will be the most powerful wizard one day and that'll only be because you held my hand and followed down the path I set you on." he ran a hand over Harry's dark, messy locks, "you and I are different from the rest Harry," he said quietly, "don't bother yourself with what others do. I am not like other fathers and you, my son, are like no other boy." he turned to stare once again, at the ruined building he had grown up in, "do as I say, Harry and one day, you too will stand tall and look down on the ruined and shattered remains of the place that tried to break you."

Harry looked over at the orphanage, thinking immediately of Godric's Hollow, the place he was tortured in for years. He swallowed heavily, closing his eyes, pushing away the horrid memories.

"As for spending time with me," Voldemort said, leaning down to be on the same eye level as the eight year old, "how about we come to an agreement. If you manage to resist and throw off the Imperius curse by next month, I'll take you with me on my next mission."

Harry's eyes widened.

"Promise, father?"

Voldemort saw excitement in every inch of Harry's face. He smiled.

"Promise."

Harry nodded eagerly.

"Done!"

"Not done," Voldemort teased, "you have to throw the curse off first."

"I'll do it," Harry replied confidently, "there's nothing I can't do."

Voldemort's red eyes gleamed.

"That's right, my son," he smiled, "nothing at all."

xxx


	6. Harry the Wizard

**Disclaimer** I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to J K Rowling.

B-Chan's request - _Harry gets his first wand - __Harry learns from his father_

Aleyerrad's request - _Harry and Nagini talk about Harry's new life with Voldemort_

Dedicated to B-Chan and Aleyerrad. I hope you like it!

**Harry the Wizard**

"What are you waiting for?" Lord Voldemort asked the small boy seated before him. "Pick one up."

Harry gave the three wooden sticks another nervous glance before looking up at the man he had began to think of as 'father'.

"I...I don't know what to do with it," he said honestly.

"You don't need to do anything," Voldemort said. "The wand chooses the wizard. All you have to do is pick it up."

Taking in a deep breath, Harry reached out to pick up the first wand, a twelve inch, pine wand. He curled his fingers around the stick and waited. Nothing happened.

"Try the next one," Voldemort instructed, looking rather calm.

Harry picked up the elm wood, thirteen and a half inches long. Again, nothing happened. Disappointment welled in Harry's chest and he chanced a quick look at his father. He didn't look mad or disappointed. He looked rather intrigued.

"That last one," Voldemort gestured to the fourteen inches, yew wand.

Slowly, Harry reached out and picked up the wand. He gave it a desperate swish, but nothing happened.

Voldemort straightened up in his seat, staring at the unsuccessful wands.

"Those were the three I had picked out for you," he said. "I was sure one of them would have matched you."

Harry silently put down the wand, not having the courage to say what his mind was screaming at him. No wand would choose him; he was a squib.

Voldemort stilled, as if a sudden thought had occurred to him. His scarlet gaze moved to rest on Harry, scrutinising him. "I wonder," he murmured. He smiled before waving his hand to gather the three wands. He stood up. "I will see you _promptly_ at seven for dinner," he said.

"Yes, father." Harry cringed at the reminder of breakfast that morning. He had slept in, almost a full ten minutes. His father was so mad, he barely looked at him at the table, no matter how profusely Harry had apologised.

With a last nod, Lord Voldemort strode out of Harry's room, leaving the five year old sitting on his own. Harry took in a great deep breath, willing himself not to dwell on the hopelessness of the situation. He knew his father hadn't admitted defeat. He had brought him a selection of wands today. He would do the same again tomorrow. He wouldn't stop until Harry had tried all the wands in the world. But Harry knew, he knew it didn't matter what anyone did, he wasn't ever going to get a wand to choose him. Wands chose wizards. He was a squib, his dad – Harry shuddered at the memory of James Potter – had always told him so. The mere thought of James Potter had Harry grow so uncomfortable, he couldn't remain sitting. He got up and hurried to his bedside desk, to pull out the small silver mask. He put it on and walked out his door. He needed to get outside, in the open air, where thoughts of his real dad couldn't suffocate him.

xxx

Harry made his way through the woods, walking aimlessly ahead. The sun was starting to set, the sky a glorious array of orange and pink. Harry was itching to take the mask off, but he remembered his father's warning to hide his face. It was dangerous for anyone to see him and as long as Death Eaters were around Riddle manor, Harry had to be extra careful.

Feeling dejected and depressed, Harry continued walking deeper into the woodland area, venturing further out than he had in the past. The comforting silence of his surrounding was broken by a strange sound. Harry stopped, his ears strained to make out the direction the sound was coming from. He turned to his left, squinting in the limited light to see what was slithering through the leaves. He relaxed when he saw the large serpent come out of the bushes, curling to rest before him.

"Nagini," Harry greeted.

"Young Master," the snake gave a little nod with it's head.

"How'd you know it was me?" Harry asked. "I'm wearing my mask."

"What other human child of five years knows the ancient tongue of my ancestors?" Nagini asked.

"Oh," Harry smiled behind his mask. "Yeah."

Nagini slid closer. "I'm surprised to have you out this far from the manor?"

Harry looked over to the towering castle in the distance.

"I just...I had to get out, get fresh air."

Nagini hissed loudly, rearing her head high.

"You're distressed." she commented.

"No," Harry shook his head. "Just a little...worried."

"I thought you'd be comfortable, living with Master?" Nagini asked.

"I am," Harry said quickly. "I love living here. Father is...he's very different to...to _him._" He shifted from one foot to the other. "But...I think he's expecting something from me which...which I'm not able to do."

"Like?" Nagini asked.

Harry took a look around, but he was well shielded from view by the tall thick cluster of trees. He sat down on the soft forest ground before taking off his mask.

"Nagini," Harry started in a quiet voice. "Being here, living with father and being his son, it's the best thing that's happened to me," Harry said. "Father never yells at me. Even if he's annoyed, like he was this morning when I was late for breakfast, he just gave me a look but he didn't shout or...or hit me." Harry rubbed at his hand, the one that was badly burned the day he met his new father. "I really like it here and I don't wanna leave."

"Master doesn't want you to leave," Nagini assured.

"Not yet," Harry said quietly. "But once he realises I'm a squib, he'll not want me anymore." He could feel the burn in his eyes and tried with all his might to hold back the tears. "He said he was going to teach me magic, but I needed a wand first. He got me three wands, but...but none of them worked." Harry's heart began to beat faster as his vision started to blur with hot tears. "My dad always told me I was a squib. I can't do magic. I'm useless. Now father's gonna know that and...and why would he wand a son whose a squib? He'll throw me out."

"Young master," Nagini brought her large head closer, peering at Harry with her lidless eyes. "You're not going to be thrown out."

"How do you know?" Harry asked, on the verge of sobbing.

"Because you're not a squib."

"I am," Harry argued. "My dad always said so."

"Then how can a squib speak Parseltongue?" Nagini asked.

Harry stilled, tear-filled eyes fixed on the serpent. "What?" he asked.

"You are a Parselmouth," Nagini said. "You speak the tongue of my great ancestors. Not only do you have to be a wizard to be able to do that, you have to be a _great_ wizard with immense power."

Harry stared at her, hanging on her every hiss.

"You...you sure?"

Nagini coiled tightly, ducking her head and hissing, baring her fangs.

"You insult me, Young Master," she said. "I know who is worthy of the great serpent tongue. I'm not one to make mistakes."

Harry leaned back, away from the spitting snake.

"Okay, yeah," he said quickly. "I believe you." But truth was, he wasn't entirely convinced.

Speaking Parseltongue was one thing. Picking up a wand and doing magic was another. Harry wasn't sure how he did the first thing, and he had next to no clue how to do the other.

xxx

Lord Voldemort arrived at Harry's door the next day, this time bringing only one wand. Harry eyed it warily. Eleven inches, made of holly and looking like it had never been touched by another wizard, the wand gleamed on a wad of green silk, resting inside the box.

"Go on," Voldemort encouraged. "This one will choose you. I know it will."

Harry steeled himself for rejection and reached into the box. His conversation with Nagini, the day before, echoed in his mind. He tried his hardest to latch onto her confidence, to make himself believe he wasn't a squib but all he felt was the overwhelming surge of anxiety wash over him. Sucking in a breath, Harry picked up the wand. The moment his fingers curled around the wood, he felt a sudden warmth fill his entire being. The wand glowed for a moment before shooting out red sparks.

Harry was left reeling in shock. His mouth dropped open, innocent green eyes wide and filled with disbelief. He looked up at his father, to see a proud smile on his face.

"Brother wands," he said. "How fitting."

Harry looked down at the wand in his hand again, before glancing back to his father.

"Brother wands?" he asked.

"This wand is very special, Harry," Voldemort said. "Not only because it chose you, but because it shares a connection to this wand." He pulled out his own wand, holding it up to show to the stunned five year old. "These two wands have at their core a feather, come from the same phoenix. The only two feathers it ever gave." He grinned at Harry's awed expression. "Our wands are brothers. Do you realise what this means?"

Harry shook his head.

"It means," Voldemort lowered himself to look into Harry's bright green eyes, "that under my guidance, you have the potential to be just as powerful as I am."

Harry spluttered and quickly shook his head in denial. He had just learned he wasn't a squib but an actual wizard. He couldn't imagine being anywhere near as brilliant as his father.

"I could never be as powerful as you, father," he said.

Voldemort smiled in self-satisfaction. He straightened up, beaming at Harry.

"Your lessons start this afternoon. I will meet you in chamber three, in exactly one hour."

At the mention of lessons, a broad smile began spreading across Harry's face.

"I'll be there, father." He promised.

Voldemort smirked and turned to walk away.

xxx

"The first thing," Voldemort instructed, standing before the five year old child in the training chamber, "you must learn is the most important of all skills."

Harry, with his new wand gripped in hand, nodded at him.

"Defence." Voldemort stated. "You can't fight if you don't know how to defend yourself." He brought out his own wand from the folds of his robes and held it out. "This, Harry, is the most basic of spells." He conjured a shield, letting it hover in front of him for a few seconds before letting it fade. "It's simple, even imbeciles of the worst kind can conjure it."

"It looked complicated," Harry said, trying to remember the way his father swished and flicked his wand.

"No, Harry," Voldemort smirked. "That is not complicated. Neither is this." He flicked his wand and a gleaming red bubble burst from his wand, enveloping him from head to foot.

Harry dropped his wand in surprise. Voldemort held the shield in place for a few moments before allowing it to end. He smirked at the child's awed expression.

"Wow," Harry breathed. "Will I be able to do that?"

"Harry," Voldemort started with a smile. "I won't rest until you do."

xxx


	7. The Boy That Played With Blades

**Disclaimer** I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to J K Rowling.

Jooy's Request - _Harry and Rodolphus_

Miz636's Request - _Harry gets his first weapon that's not his wand and learns to use it_

Dedicated to Jooy and Miz636. Enjoy!

**The Boy That Played With Blades**

There was something about presenting a child with a gift that both surprised and bewildered Lord Voldemort. As a child, Voldemort had never received a present. The orphanage that he spent his first eleven years in didn't coddle the children with such luxuries. Even Christmas came and went without a single wrapped up parcel in sight. So it was a subject completely foreign to him, but at Lucius and Bella's behest, Voldemort decided to gift Harry with his very first present.

Voldemort studied his young protégée for a silent moment. At barely eight years of age, Harry had already mastered most spells taught in the first two years of Hogwarts. His aptitude for Potions was remarkable, as was his retention for charmwork. And that was partly why Voldemort wanted to give Harry this present. Not to reward Harry, no, not at all. Voldemort had drilled the message into Harry day in and day out – that learning magic was a wizard's right, not anything to be commended. No, the gift was a new challenge. Another thing Harry would have to work at, practise until he perfected it.

Harry was watching him too, his eyes narrowed with curiosity, head tilted just a fraction to his left. The question was almost on his lips, Voldemort could see it, especially when Harry's bright green eyes kept darting to the large square case lying on the table between them. At last, Voldemort decided to stop playing and give it to Harry.

"Go on," he gestured to the case. "It's yours."

Harry drew himself to the edge of his seat, eyes on the dark mahogany case. "What is it?" he asked.

Voldemort frowned and tutted. "Such a stupid question, Harry," he reproached. "If I was going to tell you what it was, I would have already."

Harry took the scolding like he always did, with quiet dignity. He ran his hand over the wooden surface, seemingly trying to guess what could be inside.

"Why are you giving me it?" he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

It occurred to Lord Voldemort then, that just like him, Harry had never received a gift before either.

"Because Harry," he leaned closer, "I thought it was time you got something to play with."

Harry's eyes widened. Voldemort didn't have to encourage him again, Harry was already clicking the gold locks and pushing the lid up. The sight took Harry's breath away. For a moment, he did nothing but stare at the shiny silver blades that sat proudly in the casing. Harry reached out, touching the cool metal of one. He looked back up at Voldemort.

"I thought it was time you practised your aim," Voldemort said in explanation, settling back in his seat. "And what's better than throwing knives?"

Harry grinned. "They're brilliant, father," he said. "Thank you."

Voldemort waved a hand in dismissal. "They were Bella's idea. In fact, she practically begged me to get you these."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Why?"

"My guess," Voldemort smirked, "is so her husband can have the honour of teaching you."

xxx

"First thing is first," Rodolphus said, conjuring the last of the floating targets. "One major rule. One you can never forget when handling sharp objects."

Harry nodded, standing feet apart, back straight, looking determined if a little apprehensive.

"What?" he asked.

"When you're holding a blade, never under any circumstance...scratch your eyes." He hooked a finger and gestured to his eye, pulling a face. "No one likes gouged out eyes."

Harry's shoulders dropped and he glowered at Rodolphus. "Shut up," he snapped. "You're not funny."

"I'm hilarious," Rodolphus argued.

"Do you actually know how to use blades?" Harry asked. "'Cause we've been here almost half an hour, and you've not shown me one thing."

"I've handled blades all my life," Rodolphus said. "My father showed me how to hunt using only daggers."

"Good for you," Harry glowered. "But I'm not going hunting. What can you show me?"

Rodolphus chuckled. "Relax Harry, you're too worked up." He walked over and placed both hands on the eight year old's shoulders. "This is supposed to be fun."

Harry shoved his hands away. "It might be, if you actually teach me something."

Rodolphus held up both hands in mock surrender and took a step back. "Whatever you command, Prince."

"Stop calling me that!" Harry bit out. "It's getting annoying."

"It's cute," Bella called from behind them. "Besides, the title suits you. You are our Dark Prince."

Harry turned to frown at her. "Please! Lucius said it once, just to annoy me."

Bella laughed. "True, but I think, for once, he hit the mark with that title."

Harry turned back. "Go away!" he bit out.

"Ooh, look at that." Bella smirked, sharing a glance with her husband. "Our Prince giving out orders."

"Unless you're offering to be an annoying target, leave," Harry said, one of the knives gripped tight in his hand.

"I like it," Bella circled him before kneeling before him, so she was looking up into his face. "But I think it'll take a few more years before you gather the nerve to strike live targets."

Bella stood up, turning to look at Rodolphus, so she didn't see the change in Harry's expression. She didn't see the flicker of revulsion pass Harry's eyes or the sickened look engulf his features before Harry hid it behind his scowl. Bella didn't see any of it but Rodolphus did. Bella shared another glance with her husband, beaming with pride that he had secured an esteemed position as one to teach the Dark Prince.

"Have fun," she uttered softly.

Rodolphus nodded at her but waited until she had left before turning to look at Harry. He knelt before him, much like his wife had and held onto Harry's arm.

"Hey," he called. "You can't think of it like that."

"Like what?" Harry asked and Rodolphus could hear the slight tremor in his voice. "Everything you are learning, you're learning to protect yourself and your father. You can't allow yourself to think past that. It doesn't matter if its your wand or a blade that you hold," he met Harry's gaze and smiled, "you do what you have to, what is needed, to protect those you care about."

Harry relaxed, he even offered Rodolphus a small smile before nodding.

Rodolphus reached up and ruffled Harry's hair before standing.

"Now, if his highness is done pouting, can we get back to the lesson?"

Harry snapped his head up to look at him, green eyes narrowed.

"Shut up!" he barked. "Just show me how to throw the knives."

Rodolphus laughed. "There's the confident Prince I know, giving out orders."

Harry scowled in return and lifted his blade, ready to throw it. Rodolphus turned and threw out his hand. A blade Harry didn't even know was there, spun out of his hand and hit the centre of the floating target.

"Whoa!" Harry breathed, his eyes wide and filled with awe. He looked up at Rodolphus with a new sense of respect. "You _are_ good with blades."

Rodolphus smiled. "And soon, you will be too."


End file.
